


Angels

by SkorpiaMynx



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Character Death, Child Abuse, Paranormal, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-04-25 23:11:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14389071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkorpiaMynx/pseuds/SkorpiaMynx
Summary: Vostrum pugna perago./Your fight is over.





	1. Chapter 1

Prologue

Fat snowflakes fell outside the frost covered window, piling on top of the foot of snow on the ground. Watching them fall, he tried to distract himself from the one-sided conversation taking place on the other side of the room.  
He sat isolated in a cushioned chair against the wall next to an old-style radiator. Against the wall opposite him was a small hospital bed occupied by his grandfather. On the side farthest from the open door were his father and brother. His father rambled on about old memories, trying feebly to cheer up the terminally ill man. Forced laughs were evident of his distaste for the conversation.  
Every so often, he’d feel the tell-tale burning of eyes on him. It was easy now, after three months of visiting his grandfather in the hospital, to ignore them. He’d also figured out how to tell who exactly was looking at him at any moment looking up. His grandfather’s gaze filled with regret and hurt at his intentional neglect. His father’s angered at his son’s rude behavior. And his brother’s gaze was sympathetic and full of sorrow. He was the only one who seemed to understand his refusal to address the issue at hand.  
An unexpected rush of frigid air filled the room. He shivered, hugging his sweat-jacket closer around him. He saw his father and brother shiver, seeming unbothered by the change in temperature.  
He looked up, finding the window above the radiator still tightly shut and furrowed his brows. Still searching for the source of the cold, he turned, to face forward. The burn came again and this time he couldn’t stop himself from looking up.  
Ghost like eyes locked on his own, a weak smile beaming at him from the brittle patient. Fear rose in his chest and he ripped his eyes away.  
Hurt by his grandson’s unintentional cruel behavior, the man turned back to rambling son.  
His eyes widened as he stared in awe at the intruder in the doorway. Dim light coming from two lamps on either side of the hospital bed shadowed her face. Prominent cheekbones, plump, dark red lips, thin, straight nose, and steel like eyes made. A short, shredded black dress covered an hourglass figure. She was barefoot. The light from the hall was drown by enormous black wings.  
She seemed aware of the curious young eyes on her but ignored him. Her focus was on his grandfather. He couldn’t bring himself to look away from her.  
She stepped further into the room. Slivers of light spilled from behind her. She turned and finally acknowledged him watching her. She smiled emotionlessly before returning her attention to his grandfather.  
Satisfied by the small bit of attention she'd given him, he followed her eyes.  
For months he had watched the slow decline of his grandfather’s health. He’d watched the life fade from a man he’d always known to be energetic and ready for anything. He’d been there the day they got the news. He scarcely spared a passing glance at his grandfather, watching from the sidelines.  
The change between what had to have only been a minute or two since the Angel had arrived was astounding. Before, there had still been a tiny bit of light and life left in his grandfather’s cheeks and eyes.  
His face had turned gray, his eyes empty. His heart was racing according to the monitor at his bedside and his chest rapidly rose and fell; he was still.  
The Angel stood at the side of the bed opposite his father and brother. With her left hand, she caressed his grandfather’s, her right resting on the top of his head. She bent over, whispered: “Vostrum pugna perago.”  
For the final time, he watched his grandfather’s chest rise and fall.  
For the first time since they entered the room, his father shut up. Realization crossed his face, his grip tightening on the dead man’s hand. “Dad?” Slowly, he stood. “Dad?” The urgency in his voice coupled by a sudden deafening beeping and a rush of nurses and a doctor entering the room.  
“Sir, you and your sons need to leave,” the doctor told his father, pushing him out of the way.  
His brother stood, and he saw the glistening of fresh tears on his cheeks as he made his way over to the isolated chair. “C’mon, Caedan,” he spoke, pulling Caedan up. He didn’t fight.  
His eyes remained locked on his father and deceased grandfather as they left the room. Choked sobs reached his ears. His father bent over the body, looking for the first time in Caedan’s life like a real person.


	2. One

_Cracks of thunder followed by flashes of lightening made him jump, his grip on the wheel tightening._

I should’ve waited ‘til morning _, he thought._

_The roads were slick with heavy rain, the grass on the sides of the road completely soaked through. He could feel the near bald tires struggle to grip onto nothing. Fear enveloped him, making his heart race._

_There hadn’t been a single other car on the road for almost an hour. His headlights reflected off the rain, obscuring his vision. There wasn’t another source of light to anywhere._

_Another crash of thunder, louder and closer than the rest broke through the air. High beams came around the corner, combining with a flash of lightening, blinding him._

_As his eyes began to focus, the other driver swerved, the car slipping on the wet road._

_Eyes widened in fear, he frantically turned the wheel, only to lose control himself, and spiral into the rock wall on the right side._

_The passenger side collided with the cement. The glass imploded from the impact._

_A moment passed where he was aware of stinging pain in his hands and face from embedded shards of glass, before the headlights blinded him._

* * *

Drenched in sweat, Caedan bolted upright in bed, panting. His heart raced, making it even harder for him to catch his breath. His room was pitch black. Wind howled outside the house, rain pounding against the window.

He pressed his palms into his eyes, rubbing the sleep and memories of the nightmare from them. When it didn’t work, he reached over, plucking his sketchbook from the nightstand beside his bed.

Opening to a blank page, he took out his favorite drawing pencil. The white page began filling with a torrent of rain, a soaked road all highlighted by headlights.

His eyebrows scrunched together, a headache beginning to build behind his eyes as he drew. When the whole page was filled, he dropped the sketchbook on the bed beside him. Pulling his knees up to his chest, he wrapped his arms around them and buried his head in his folded arms.

His heart was still racing, though he was able to breathe now. His head spun sickeningly. Exhaustion plagued him, mixed with the panic growing inside him. Closing his eyes, he took deep breaths, attempting to calm the feeling before he was thrown into a full force attack.

Something about the dream had felt so real, so life like. When the headlights had come too close for him to see anything else, he felt like he was staring Death in the face.

* * *

After managing to ward off the panic attack, he slept fitfully, waking every hour or so in a cold sweat. The next day, he couldn’t shake the feeling of something being wrong or that something bad was going to happen. The onset of another attack was right at the edge of his mind.

He went to work at the garage with his father like usual, pushing through the day to pretend nothing was wrong. He went through the motions well enough for his father not to notice.

Once school had let out, his best friend came by the shop. As soon as his eyes landed on Caedan, his eyes softened, and his smile fell.

“Hey, you good to take a break?” he asked Caedan, looking over at his father for an answer. A single, absent nod was all they got in reply. Caedan washed off his grease covered hands before getting in his car. “You okay?” the other teen asked once both doors had shut.

Caedan nodded, “’m fine, Beck.” His answer was too quick to be true. Beck was silent as they drove off toward the only diner in town. Caedan could feel the younger teen’s eyes on him, forcing himself not to look back. “Stop staring at me, I said I’m fine,” he growled, tightening his grip on the wheel in annoyance.

Beck watched as his knuckles turned white, shaking his head. “What happened? Did Darrel. . .”

“No!” he answered too quickly. “He didn’t do anything.”

As he pulled into the parking lot and put the car into park, he sat back, closing his eyes. “So, what happened?”

Caedan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It was just a dream, it freaked me out but I’m fine.”

“What was it about?”

Instead of answering, he opened his door and headed into the diner. Beck groaned, frustrated, and followed, slamming the door behind him.

“What the fuck, man?” Beck snapped when he found Caedan sitting at a booth in the very back of the diner.

“A car crash,” Caedan whispered, staring at his shaking hands. Beck raised an eyebrow, taking a seat in the booth opposite him. “It was the middle of the night and I was driving down a back road or something. I could barely see because it was pouring out.” He paused as an elderly waitress walked over to them, smiling. Caedan kept his head down as he ordered a cup of black coffee.

Beck returned her smile and ordered a Coke. “So, you were driving, and it was pouring. . .”

“And then another car came around a corner and they had their high beams on and I couldn’t see anything. They lost control. I tried to avoid them but lost control, too, and hit the barrier. The last thing I remember was seeing their headlights.”

Beck was silent, watching to see if Caedan was going to continue. When he didn’t, he spoke up, “That’s it? Did you die?”

Caedan shrugged, “I don’t know. When I saw the headlights, it felt like I was staring at Death.” He shuddered. “All day I’ve had a bad feeling that I can’t shake. Like something bad is gonna happen.”

Beck frowned, “It’s fine, Caedan. It was just a bad dream. Nothing bad is gonna happen.” Caedan nodded, still avoiding looking at Beck.

* * *

The front door slammed against the wall as it was opened, rattling the house. Caedan groaned as he heard his father walk in, mumbling to himself as he kicked his shoes off.

Closing his sketchbook, Caedan made to jump up from the couch but stopped as his father walked in, grumbling under his breath. As soon as he walked past Caedan, a strong scent of alcohol mixing with oil and gas nearly choked Caedan. He didn’t spare so much as a passing glance at his son as he made his way to the liquor cabinet. He pulled out an already half empty bottle of his favorite whiskey, plopping down in his designated chair.

Rolling his eyes in annoyance, Caedan stood, hurrying up the stairs. Closing ad locking his door, he fell into his desk chair, rubbing his temple.

He could still hear his father mumbling and cursing to himself. Most of it was undecipherable nonsense. When he’d gotten back to the shop after going to eat with Beck, his father was already pissed off. Caedan kept to himself even more so for the rest of the day. He left two full hours before his dad came home.

Turning to the radio on the corner of his desk, Caedan pressed play, hoping to drown out the babbling of his father. Metallica exploded through the speakers, making everything on the desk rattle. He leaned his head back, exhaling. He was more than glad now that he hadn’t told his father about the dream.

Standing groggily from the chair, he flopped down on his bed, burying his face in his pillow. It wasn’t long before he felt the oncoming sleep.

* * *

“It’s getting worse, Beck,” Caedan sighed, running a hand through thick black waves of hair. “This morning I found him lying in a puddle of his own vomit, two completely empty bottles on the table.”

Beck frowned down at his clasped hands on the table. “Have you tried talking to him about it?”

Caedan scoffed, “Yeah, more times than I can count. He either waves me off like I’m not even there or punches something, usually me,” he mumbled the last part under his breath.

Beck sighed, resting his chin on his hand. “Maybe he’s just a lost cause, man. I don’t know what to tell you.”

Caedan nodded. His brows furrowed in thought. “They say unless someone wants to be saved, no matter how hard you try to, you can’t save them.”

Beck remained silent for a long moment. Caedan glanced up, expecting Beck to say something in reply. When he made no attempt at speaking, Caedan put his head back down. “Maybe you should call Bell.” At his brother’s name, Caedan looked back up. “He always seemed to be the only one that could talk some sense into either of you. Have a little intervention.” Without a second thought, Caedan shook his head. “Caedan, if Darrel’s drinking keeps getting worse, eventually he’s gonna do something that there’s no coming back from. And you will be the one caught in the crossfires of his anger. Can you imagine what losing you would do to Bell? Or your dad? He might be a piece of shit but there’s still a small part of you that cares about him; even if I think it makes you fucking crazy for it.” Caedan looked back at his hands, shaking his head. “Call Bell or I will.”

“I can’t. I don’t want to bother him. He went away to college to get the hell away from Darrel. I’m not gonna drag him back because I can’t take a hit or two.”

Beck’s eyes explored Caedan’s visible skin. Old and new scars were scattered all about. In the crook of his right elbow were two distinct cigarette burns Beck had seen Darrel presented Caedan with when he was 13. A long scar he’d gotten from a compound fracture he suffered at seven from being thrown against a doorway covered the side of his left forearm. It had weeks taken to get Caedan to talk about it and when he did speak, he downplayed it as tripping down the stairs. Bell had been the one to tell him the whole story. Even now, he knew that this was not the whole story. The way Caedan fought so hard to avoid looking directly at Beck proved that Caedan was hiding something.

“Can I stay over tonight?”

Caedan’s head shot up at the question, a look of confusion crossing his features. “I-I don’t know. . .”

“Maybe having me around with calm the tension a bit. And even if it doesn’t at least you’ll have me to talk to if anything happens.” Beck smiled even though Caedan had looked away once again. “I’m staying over. Don’t argue ‘cause you won’t win.”

* * *

_Orange flames burned from of both cars. He felt no heat from them. To his left was the car that had been heading toward him. the driver, a middle-aged man, was hunched over the wheel, blood smeared on the deflated airbag. The movement of his breathing brought some relief._

_In front of him was the mangled heap he’d been driving. The driver’s side door was completely caved in, glass sprayed everywhere. A rainbow puddle was growing from beneath the car’s nose._

_Blood flowing from one deep gash on his forehead and one on his temple, the driver was also hunched over._

_His stomach dropped as he peered in closer. The bloody face was not his own. Tasteful stubble, a slightly crooked nose, medium length chocolate brown hair, and pale beige skin coated with blood._

“ _Caedan. . .” A voice called out. “Caedan. . .” It almost sounded like a song, light and comforting. “Caedan. . .”_

* * *

“Caedan! Hey! **Wake up**!”

Caedan bolted up in bed, gasping. His eyes frantically flicked around the room before finally landing on Beck at the side of the bed. Concern filled the sky-blue irises. Relief was not brought on by his friend’s company.

Panic consumed him. his chest tightened, choked gasps for air cutting through the room. His arms trembled under the weight he pressed on them. Beck pushed him back against the headboard, his hands steady and firm on Caedan’s shoulders. Folding his legs, he sat on the edge of the bed.

“C’mon, Caedan, look at me,” he coaxed. Wide russet eyes met his. He read the silent plea in them, nodding in understanding. He placed one hand on Caedan’s chest, feeling the raised skin of a scar as old as Caedan himself, and the rapid beating of his heart. “Breathe in,” he commanded. Caedan struggled to do as told, squeezing his eyes shut in agony. “C’mon, again. Breathe in.” He annunciated each word slowly, forcing Caedan to look him in the eyes as he’d seen Bell do too many times before to count.

Caedan zoned in on the multitudes of blue in Beck’s eyes, copying Beck’s breathing motions. The tight pull in his chest loosened, air filled his lungs.

Beck smiled encouragingly, “You good?” Caedan nodded, sitting back against the headboard, pulling away from Beck’s touch. He closed his eyes, repeating the instructed breathing technique a few more times before opening them again. “What the hell happened, man? You just started thrashing around. It looked like you were having a seizure or something.” Caedan looked down, embarrassed. Beck frowned, “Another nightmare?” Inhaling sharply, Caedan nodded. “You wanna talk about it?”

Caedan hesitated, staring at his shaking hands. Feeling the heat of Beck watching him, he looked back up, “I-It was T-Bell. . .” he rasped, barely audible.

Beck raised an eyebrow. “What about him?”

“I-In the dream. . . I wasn’t the one driving, Bell was. H-He crashed. Th-the car was all mangled, totaled. An-And he was bleeding pretty bad.” Beck’s eyes widened. “I-I think he was dead.” When Beck didn’t say anything, he continued. “I think I saw an Angel.”

Beck flinched back, regretting it instantly when he saw the hurt look on Caedan’s face. “It’s just a dream, Caedan. It doesn’t mean anything,” he told him quickly, hoping to ease Caedan’s fresh wave of panic.

“It felt so real, though. I felt like I was there. A-And last night it really felt like I was the one driving.” He broke off, unable to stop the single tear that fell from his eye. “It felt so real.”

Beck moved to sit beside him, draping an arm over his shoulders. Caedan wearily leaned into the embrace. “It wasn’t, Caedan. Bell is fine. You’re fine. Everything is fine. Okay?” Caedan looked unsure. Beck could feel tremors coursing through the older teen’s body despite his efforts to hide them. “Call him. Maybe hearing his voice, hearing him say he’s okay, will help you relax and then you can go back to sleep.”

A moment later, Caedan grabbed his phone off the nightstand, unplugging it from the charger. His hands still shook as he scrolled through his contacts before landing on Bell. He put it on speaker, holding it between him and Beck.

It rang twice and was halfway through the third ring when Bell answered. “Hello?” he questioned groggily, sounding slightly annoyed.

“B-Bell?”

They could hear the shifting of blankets and creaking of springs as Bell sat up in bed. “Caedan, you okay?”

Caedan nodded, then, “Yeah, yeah I-I’m fine now. I-I’m really sorry for calling you so late.”

“It’s fine. What happened? Did Darrel do something?”

Beck couldn’t help smiling at the concern in the older brother’s voice. “No, well, not really. He’s been drinking more but nothing that bad has happened yet. I just,” Caedan paused, looking over at Beck, cheeks flushing with embarrassment again.

“You had another panic attack?” Bell guessed, shifting once again. “What caused it?”

Caedan looked back at Beck again, who shrugged. “I don’t know. It just woke me up. I think I’m okay, now, though. I really am sorry for calling in the middle of the night.”

Bell exhaled a thin laugh, “It’s okay, really.” He paused. “If it gets worse, **call me**. I’ll come right down. I don’t give a shit about what time it is. You got that?”

Caedan smiled, “Yeah, I got it.”

 


	3. Two

Two

  
  


Tuesday night, after a long, relaxing day off, Caedan sat at his desk once again, sketching away at a paint design for a car. Not even a minute after the clock on the nightstand read 8:30, his peace of mind was shattered by the back door of the house slamming against the wall and the sound of his father falling through the doorway. A loud clatter followed, then a thud, and finally the door was kicked shut. Darrel’s boots fell heavily on the wood floor downstairs as he stomped into the living room, no doubt heading straight for the liquor cabinet. Caedan rolled his eyes, sighing heavily, and leaning back in his chair. He listened for a moment; incoherent mumbles seeped through the floorboards separating them. Darrel never sat down, just continued pacing around downstairs purposelessly.

A string of curses fell from Darrel’s lips as he entered the kitchen. Caedan groaned in remembrance.

A second later, “ **Caedan!** ”

Shutting the sketchbook, he pushed himself up from the chair and went downstairs.

Darrel leaned heavily against the counter, panting slightly before taking another long swing from the fresh bottle of vodka. Crossing his arms over his chest, Caedan leaned against the door frame, “Yes?”

Glaring at his son, Darrel turned, unable to hide the stagger in his movement. “Didn’t I tell you to do the dishes?” he barked, gesturing exaggeratedly at the half full sink behind him.

Caedan sighed, nodding, “Sorry, I forgot.” Then, without thinking, “I’ll do ‘em tomorrow.”

Darrel’s eyes narrowed further; he pushed himself away from the counter, stumbling over to Caedan, a murderous look in his cold gray eyes. “You’ll do ‘em now, boy,” he growled beneath revolting breath. Scuffing in annoyance, Caedan waved his father off, turning to leave when a strong, calloused mechanic’s hand wrapped around his wrist, jagged nails digging into his skin. “ _Now!_ ” Darrel yanked on Caedan’s arm, pulling him back into the kitchen, shoving him at the sink as roughly as he could manage.

Caught off guard by the force of the shove, Caedan barely managed to put his hands out in time to catch himself before he fell into the counter. “What the fuck?” He spun to glare at Darrel, his eyes falling to the half empty bottle in his hands. Thoughtlessly, he reached for it, only to have his hand smacked away harshly. Darrel cradled the bottle close protectively. “I think you’ve had enough, Dad. Gimme the bottle.” He reached again, silently cursing himself when he saw Darrel raise the bottle.

The bottom of the bottle collided with his jaw, shattering on impact. Shards of glass embedded themselves in his cheek, blood and alcohol dripping from his chin, pain shooting from the open wounds. “Fuck!” he yelled, instinctively bringing his hand up to cover his cheek.

Darrel stared at the broken pieces of the bottle and the puddle on the floor regretfully, “Look what ya made me do, Caedan.”

Caedan’s jaw dropped open despite the pain, “ **What I** _ **made**_ **you do?!** Look at my face!” Blearily, Darrel raised his eyes, barely sparing a glance at the bleeding cuts on his son’s face. At seeing the blank, apathetic look in his father’s eyes, Caedan spat, “Fuck you.”

Not giving any time for, or expecting, a response, he spun around, grabbing his keys off the counter and storming out the sliding doors. Darrel watched him leave before his eyes fell to the mess on the floor, only caring that he’d have to get another bottle out.

Metal blasted from the speakers as he turned the key in the ignition. Throwing the car into reverse, Caedan slammed his foot down on the gas, kicking up a cloud of dust as he sped out of the driveway. Not sure where to go, he turned on the road leading out of town. His heart pounded, his breathing ragged and heavy. His cheeks stung, pain and anger coursing through his veins.

The back road was pitch black, only illuminated by his headlights. As the current song came to a stop, a flash of lightning broke apart the sky, followed a second later by a shuddering crack of thunder. Caedan jumped, swerving slightly. Righting the car, he cursed when he saw rain begin to pour down in from of him. fear and panic rose in his chest. Looking around frantically, he sighed in relief in spotting a clearing in the woods just big enough to house his car for the time being. Pulling off the road, he parked, leaning his head back, taking a slow, deep breath.

After a moment, the panic seemed to reside, allowing him to breathe evenly. A wave of pain hit him. He groaned, turning on the interior light, pulling down the sun visor, and flipping open the mirror. He winced when he saw how badly cut up his face was. Blood crusted around embedded shards of glass of all sizes, more blood slowly dripping from other cuts in his cheek, leaving bright red trails in their wake. Swearing, he reached into the glove compartment, pulling out an old pair of pliers he always kept on hand. Eyeing them for a long moment, he sighed, they’d have to do for now.

With a slightly shaking hand, he began pulling out the larger pieces of glass, dropping them into the cup holder at his feet. More blood poured from the now open gashes, making it harder to get a good grip on the glass with the needle nose of the pliers. More than once he slipped, cursing loudly when he’d hit another cut. Finally, after removing the largest pieces, he dropped the bloodied pliers on the dashboard, leaning his head back against the seat.

His pulse beat heavily behind his eyelids and loudly in his ears. Pressing his palms hard against his aching eyes, Caedan shut the car off, laying across the front seat, bundling up his jacket to use as a pillow. Exhaustion swept over him, bringing with it a calming darkness.

* * *

The incessant ringing of his phone woke him the next morning. The sky was clouded over, if not for the time - 7:43 - being displayed on the obnoxiously bright screen of his phone, he would have thought it was still night. He furrowed his brows at the name displayed. “Beck?”

“Where are you? I’ve been calling you for hours!” Beck yelled through the phone; instinctively, Caedan pulled the phone away from his ear.

“Why?”

“Meet me at the diner…” He paused, it seemed like he didn’t even breathe for a full minute before continuing right before Caedan was about to snap at him. “Bell was in an accident last night, I don’t know how…”

Caedan didn’t wait for any further explanation, he hung up, carelessly tossing his phone to the side. The split second it took for the car to start after turning the key in the ignition was almost too long but once he felt the engine roar to life, he threw the car into reverse and spun back out onto the road.

The blacktop was slick from the rain the night before. At first, Caedan barely noticed and didn’t even attempt to care; then a painful flashback that sent him swirling back into the dream from two nights ago made him slow down. His mind raced with what may be happening to his brother. Nauseated by the thoughts, Caedan shook his head, willing them away.

Beck had one foot against the brick wall of the diner they frequented most days after he got out of school. His hands were in the front pockets of his impossibly tight black skinny jeans, head down. His shaggy dark brown hair was a knotted mess, dark circles of exhaustion crowding barely open eyes.

His head snapped up, tired, bloodshot chocolate eyes blowing wide as the nose of Caedan’s car stopped barely a foot in front of him. without waiting for any indication from Caedan, Beck threw himself through the passenger door.

Beck couldn’t hold back the audible gasp that escaped him when his eyes fell on the cut-up side of Caedan’s face. The cuts had mostly stopped bleeding, leaving his skin red and crusted with blood.

Caedan said nothing, only pulled out of the parking lot fast enough to scare a young family on their way inside. Ignoring Beck’s inquisitive glance, Caedan nodded his head to the left. Beck nodded, “Angel’s Heart.”

Five minutes of agonizing silence passed before Caedan finally spoke, making Beck jump. “What happened?”

Beck cleared his throat, adjusting his position unnecessarily. “I don’t know. Darrel called me last night, said he’d been comin’ down to see you when he lost control of his car, slammed right into rocks and got hit by another car.” Caedan’s hands tightened on the wheel, his breath catching in his throat warningly. Beck saw, sucking in a deep breath. “Hey, he’ll be okay, man. Just…relax, okay? Freaking out and thinking about the worst thing that could happen, isn’t going to help anything.”

Caedan nodded hastily, bringing in a deep, shuddering breath, he loosened his grip on the steering wheel, leaning back against the seat.

The rest of the drive was utterly silent aside from the low music playing through the speakers. Beck twiddled his thumbs in his lap, sparing occasional glances at Caedan’s torn up face.

By the time they pulled into the parking lot, Caedan couldn’t hide how badly his hands were shaking. Beck pretended not to notice, keeping his eyes off his friend as much as possible.

Walking through the doors of the hospital, all eyes seemed to turn toward them, jaws dropping at the sight of Caedan’s wounds. The nurse behind the front desk audibly gasped like Beck had, quickly cupping her hands around her mouth.

“We’re here to see Bellamy Reid,” Caedan announced, catching the elderly nurse off guard.

“Sir, I think it would be best if you got your injuries taken care of first,” she advised, nodding at a much younger brunette nurse walking by.

Caedan shook his head, holding a hand up at the young nurse. “I want to see my brother first.” The strict stare he gave her made her nod.

“He’s in 106, third door on the right down that hall. Nurse Marin will meet you there and take care of your wounds, okay?” Caedan nudged Beck’s shoulder as he walked passed, not answering her.

* * *

Bell was paler than Caedan could ever remember him being, so still he could’ve been mistaken for dead. A tube was in his throat, an IV in each arm, wires hooked onto his chest, and a blood pressure clip on his finger. Two long, wide gashes on his forehead and cheek looked to have been hastily stitched up, leaving the skin around them puffy and bright red compared to the rest of his skin. A thick cast was on his left arm and a brace on his right leg.

Sitting next to the bed, his head in his shaking hands, was Darrel. Hearing the door shut behind the boys, Darrel lifted his head. Guilt washed over his features. Caedan straightened up, glaring down at his father.

“Caedan, I’m so…”

Caedan pushed past him, standing at his brother’s bedside, completely blocking out the older man. His eyes trailed over Bell’s exposed skin. Hesitantly, he brushed his finger along a bandaged wound on Bell’s right arm, wincing in sympathy at the pain his brother couldn’t feel.

“What happened?” he asked, so quietly he wasn’t sure he’d been heard.

He had. “He was coming to see us last night but didn’t think of the storm he lost control, spun into the rock wall on Miller. Another car was on the road and slammed into him.”

Tears welled in Caedan’s eyes, he quickly blinked them away. Before he could respond, the door opened behind Beck, letting in the young nurse they’d seen at the front desk. She was pushing a cart full of bandages, needles, disinfectants, and various other supplies. Sensing the growing tension, she placed her hand lightly on Caedan’s arm, gesturing for him to take a seat against the wall. He did as told, exhaling heavily.

“Why was he even coming here?” he asked, quickly being shushed by the nurse.

“Well, after you ran off I called him. I was worried sick about you,” Darrel winced at the harsh eye roll the statement earned. “I asked him what I should do, and he just said he was on his way.” Watching the anger burn brighter in Caedan’s russet eyes, Darrel glared, “If you weren’t such a pain in the ass about everything we wouldn’t be here right now!”

“How is it my fault?” he snapped, jerking his head away from the nurse, ignoring the flare of pain as he did so. “I was trying to help you and you smashed a bottle in my face!”

The nurse tried to calm him, so she could finish, not bothering to hide the scowl she cast toward the hungover father. She began working faster as she saw the burning in Caedan’s eyes.

“You’ve been nothing by trouble since the day you were born!” Darrel shouted. “You killed your own mother for God’s sake!”

Caedan jumped to his feet, pushing away the frantic nurse as he stomped over to his father. Darrel stared up at Caedan, shrinking back in fear.

A strong fist decorated with large steel rings collided with Darrel’s cheek, snapping his head to the side, splitting open the inside of his cheek; blood spurted from his lips uncontrollably.

A hand came up to his lips, only a fleeting moment before Caedan kicked the chair he sat on out from under him, sending him crashing to his knees. The thud ripped a scream from the nurse’s throat, catching the attention of a doctor walking by.

Caedan shoved Darrel onto his back, pinning him in place down with his knee on his ribs. Punch… after punch… after punch hit him, blood springing free from fresh cuts.

Hands wrapped around Caedan’s arms, yanking him back as Beck yelled for them to stop. Still, he kicked and pulled against their strong holds, screaming curses at the crumpled heap on the floor. He was dragged out of the room, the heel of his boot leaving an indent in the wall and door.

Beck followed right after, swearing at the two security guards removing Caedan. The elderly nurse at the desk cupped her hands around her mouth as she saw Caedan be pulled out the door.

He was dropped unceremoniously on the concrete outside. The guards turned and walked back inside without a word. Beck crouched by the seething teen, subconsciously reaching a hand out to comfort him.

“How is it that everyone else has been taken and that bastard gets to stay and stumble around shitfaced day after day?” Caedan mumbled, pulling himself to his feet and dusting off his black jeans. He said nothing in response as he watched his older friend leave the sidewalk toward his car. “Beck!” he jumped but quickly followed.

* * *

Caedan was visibly shaking as he drove away from the hospital. Beck watched worriedly for a while before finally shaking his head and speaking, “Pull over, man.”

Surprisingly, Caedan did. He pulled onto a one-way back road, stopping once they were past the edge of the building at the front.

Beck turned to him, folding one leg up on the seat. “You okay?”

Despite the car being parked, Caedan’s grip on the wheel hadn’t loosened. His jaw was set, teeth gritted together in an irritating habit Beck hated. He made no attempt at responding, keeping his gaze set straight ahead.

His chest rose and fell unevenly, the veins in his neck and forehead protruding. Tentatively, Beck brought a hand up to rest on Caedan’s forearm. Caedan flinched back instinctively, startled eyes turning toward Beck’s.

“It’s just me, Caedan,” Beck assured him, fighting the urge to pull his hand away. Caedan nodded absently, finally prying his white knuckled hands from the wheel. He leaned back against the seat, his head falling back heavily. “Don’t let it get to you. He’s just a bitter old drunk, he doesn’t mean it.” Beck instantly regretted saying this when Caedan’s eyes fell to his clenched hands in his lap. “I’m sorry.”

“’S not your fault,” Caedan muttered, his voice ragged and uneven.

“It’s not yours either and what Darrel said isn’t true or fair. Don’t let it get to you, okay?” Caedan nodded, but Beck saw through the pathetic attempt at reassurance.

“When’s the last time you ate something?” Beck asked after a moment’s silence, frowning at how badly he was shaking. Caedan shrugged halfheartedly. “Why don’t we go to the diner?” Taking a deep breath, Caedan nodded, turning to drive, only for Beck’s hand to wrap around his wrist, “Why don’t I drive?” Thankfully, Caedan agreed, wordlessly opening the door and stepping out.

Throughout the short drive, it became increasingly clear that Caedan wasn’t all there, trying his best to fight off another panic attack. Beck frequently looked over, his heart dropping further with each short glance.

Eventually, they pulled into the diner they ate at almost every day after school. Beck led the way to their usual table. Caedan was alarmingly silent, playing with the napkin wrapped utensils to distract himself. He barely even noticed when a waitress walked up, a sweet old lady that had worked there as long as either of them could remember. Beck took control, feeling indescribably awkward as he ordered for the both of them.

“Caedan, once we eat, we’ll go back and talk to the security guards or whoever and get it figured out, okay? But you need to eat before you pass out or something.” Unfortunately, the suggested had happened more than once before on particularly bad days for the older teen.

Caedan only nodded blearily.

Beck was thankful when their food arrived, momentarily providing a distraction from the awkward, nerve-wracking silence they shared.

Caedan pushed his eggs around absently, never actually eating more than a measly bite. Beck tried to eat, but his stomach turned nauseatingly with nerves.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Beck announced, pushing his barely touched plate away.

No response came. He stood, leaving quickly. When he made it to the bathroom, he was thankful it was empty. He leaned heavily against one of the sinks, taking deep breaths to calm himself down.

His phone ringing suddenly made him jump. His forehead creased at the ID. “Hello?” he answered shakily.

“Beck?” Darrel’s tired, husky voice greeted him, confusion and regret dripping in his words.

“Yeah. . . sorry, I, uh-”

“I convinced them to let Storm back in to see Bell. I-I think it’d be best if he was here instead of me. I’m heading home now.” Beck nodded despite unable to see the other man. “C-can you do something for me?”

“Uh. . .”

“Tell them I’m sorry.”

 


	4. Three

Three

  
  


Through barely open eyes, he watched Tom try to whack Jerry with a frying pan. Bell had one arm draped over his slumped form leaning against his side, the other propped on the armrest of the couch, holding open a battered old copy of Lord of the Flies. The only light in the house came from the dim TV and lamp next to the couch.

His eyelids began drifting closed, his head falling against Bell’s ribs. The rhythm of his breathing and soft patter of his heart lulled him into a deep sleep.

Feeling Caedan relax against him, Bell looked down, smiling at the peaceful look on the boy’s face. Shutting off the TV and returning to his book, deciding to finish the rest of this chapter before carrying his brother upstairs. He should still have about an hour before Darrel got home.

“ _But the…oh…the fire! Of course, the fire!” He started to –_

The front door was thrown open, letting in the orange glow from the porch-light mixed with the dim illumination of the half-full moon, blocked partially by a large shadow standing in the doorway.

His heart jumped as he struggled to remain still, watching the shadow out of the corner of his eye.

Spotting the light on in the living room, Darrel stumbled through the doorway, tripping in the process over a discarded pair of children’s shoes, falling into the wall hard enough to make Caedan stir slightly.

Bell barely noticed the audible sigh of relief he released when Caedan stilled.

The relief was short lived.

“Goddamn it!” Darrel yelled, his voice booming through the otherwise silent house. Bell winced. Bloodshot eyes landed on the child curled up against his big brother. “Wake him up!”

Bell sighed, shaking his head, absentmindedly tightening his grip on Caedan. “Dad, it’s my fault, okay, don’t…”

Darrel didn’t wait to hear the rest of what was said, he stomped over, grabbing Caedan’s exposed arm, earning a frightened cry as he yanked his youngest son from the couch. “ **How many times do I have to tell you?** Pick up after yourself!” He dragged Caedan over to the shoes, pointing dramatically. Caedan whined, trying desperately to pull his arm from his father’s hand. “Stop it!” Darrel yelled louder, tightening his grip even more. “Pick ‘em up!”

He flung Caedan at the shoes. Not expecting the sudden movement or how much force Darrel used, Caedan couldn’t get any balance, slamming into the doorway. An impossibly loud crack sounded from his arm as he made contact.

Bell jumped to his feet, immediately falling at Caedan’s side, cradling the screaming child protectively. “What the fuck is wrong with you? He’s a **kid** , he made a mistake!”

“He should know better!” Darrel bellowed, gesturing toward Caedan and the shoes wildly.

Ignoring his father, Bell lifted the injured arm, swearing loudly. The bone was snapped almost perfectly in half, pushing against his skin almost to the point of ripping it open.

* * *

“…so, do you wanna go back to the hospital?” Beck finished, pausing for any response. Caedan was staring wide-eyed at his shaking hands on the table. “Caedan?” Caedan’s head shot up, confusion washing over his features. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

Caedan shook his head, “No, sorry.”

Sighing in frustration, “Darrel talked to the hospital, you can go back. Do you want to?”

Caedan nodded, standing quickly. As soon as he was upright, black spots filled his vision, he swayed, leaning against the table for support. Beck reached out instinctively, grabbing Caedan’s upper arms securely.

The moment was caught by a passing waitress, who turned toward the pair worriedly. “Is he okay?”

Beck nodded hastily, “Yeah, he’s fine. Can we just get our food to go? Thanks.” With another quick glance at the still disoriented Caedan, she left with the two plates juggled on her arm.

Turning back to Caedan, Beck let go of his arms, taking a step back once he seemed to regain his balance. “Okay?” Caedan nodded slowly, looking past Beck as the waitress returned with their leftover food. “Thanks,” Beck took the boxes from her, nodding toward the door as he started walking.

Caedan headed toward the driver’s side, earning a stern head shake from Beck. “What?”

“You haven’t eaten in probably almost two days and I’m pretty sure you almost passed out. Gimme the keys.” Beck held his hand out expectantly.

Caedan shook his head, opening the car door. He was about to sit when Beck grabbed his arm, pulling him back. “You are not okay to drive right now. You’re upset, dehydrated, starved. Honestly, I think you’re on the edge of a mental breakdown, and that’s perfectly acceptable considering the circumstances. But as your friend, I can’t let you drive right now.”

“ _I’m fine_ ,” Caedan argued stubbornly.

“If you drive right now, we’ll _both_ end up just like Bell!” Caedan was silent, staring down at Beck through burning eyes, just a flicker of remorse crossing his features. “Is that what you want?” Caedan straightened up, but his expression didn’t soften. Beck stepped back, eyes widening in realization. “Really?” Caedan looked down. Scoffing, Beck shook his head, “Get in the car.”

Once the doors were shut, Beck started the car and back out of the parking lot. “Look, you’re miserable, I get it, believe me, I get it. It sucks that this happened to Bell, and I am beyond sorry about it, man. But you can’t go back to your stupidly reckless ways again. What if he wakes up only to find out that you killed yourself because you couldn’t even handle the thought of him not waking up, that you gave up on him that easily? How the fuck do you think that’ll make him feel, huh?”

Head leaned against his hand, elbow propped up on the door, Caedan stared blankly out the window.

“You don’t know because you haven’t even though about how anyone else would feel because **you never do**! You go off, trying _time and time and time again_ to get yourself killed, doing _everything_ possible to just end it without the slightest thought of _anyone_ else!” Beck punched the steering wheel, pain flaring up in his knuckles, Caedan jumped. “You know what?” Hurling the car at the curb, he slammed on the breaks, sitting back. “Get out.”

“It’s my fucking car.”

Beck shook his head, “If you wanna go wander around waiting for the perfect chance to off yourself, then get out. I’m going to see _your_ brother.” Caedan didn’t move. “If you really want to die, go, but I am not going to watch you do it.”

“Fuck you,” Caedan hissed.

Beck leaned over, throwing open the passenger door, gesturing for Caedan to get out.

Huffing and rolling his eyes, Caedan jumped out.

Arms crossed over his chest to show he wasn’t going to change his mind, Caedan watched through cold eyes as Beck drove away, shaking his head and mumbling to himself.

On the other side of the street, with a little yappy dog on a studded leash, a girl in her mid-twenties was watching, her expression clearly judgmental. She eyed Caedan up and down, smirking teasingly. Flipping her off, Caedan stuffed his hands in the pockets of his tattered leather jacket, walking off in the opposite direction Beck had gone.

Early winter was moving in, the cold before the first snowfall heavy in the air. Not many people were out walking, thankfully. Caedan kept his head down, kicking bitterly at the occasional stone.

Beck’s words played over and over in his head, a swimming feeling wrapping itself around his brain. Pushing aside the nauseous feeling that accompanied it, he made his way into a shadowed ally between two old brick buildings. It was narrow, barely wide enough to walk comfortably through.

When the dull sunlight retreated, he stopped, leaning against the wall, breathing heavily. His heart started pounding again, familiar black spots dancing across his vision.

Sliding down the wall, he dropped on the filthy ground, sucking in a jagged breath.

* * *

Darrel sat in his chair by the lit fireplace, a cigarette between the index and middle finger of his right hand, a half empty glass of whiskey in his left. He watched the flames flicker, ashes dancing around. One escaped over the top of the gate put in front of the opening, floating up toward the mantle. Darrel’s eyes tiredly followed it, losing track when they passed over the battered vase placed next to a picture of his late wife. A tear stung his eye and was quickly blinked away.

Staggering to his feet, he made his way toward the picture and the vase. Inside the vase, held together by a faded white ribbon, were the long since dead flowers his wife had carried down the aisle at their wedding 18 years ago. Carefully lifting the vase, he ran his fingertips over the tops of the flowers. A tear slipped down his cheek as a petal fell off and drifted to the floor.

Seconds later, loud laughter and thundering footsteps rang through the house. Beck and Caedan came barreling down the stairs, startling Darrel.

The vase fell to the floor, bouncing off, leaving a small dent in its wake.

“Shit,” Darrel hissed, bending over quickly to grab it. The paint on the bottom had chipped off, revealing ugly, rough gray stone. Darrel’s eyes narrowed.

Beck and Caedan stood in the doorway between the entrance hall and living room, staring in wide-eyed terror at the fuming father.

“What the hell is wrong with you two? You act like animals!”

“I-We’re sorry, dad, we were just leaving…” Caedan murmured. Darrel turned his attention back to the damaged vase and dead rose in his hands. “At least it didn’t break,” Caedan said hopefully.

Darrel’s head snapped back up, eyes narrowing in on his youngest son. He      slammed the vase back on the mantle, storming over to the teens. “Yeah, you’re fucking lucky it didn’t or I’d do a hell of a lot worse than this to you.” He grabbed Caedan’s arm, yanking him away from Beck’s side. “Maybe this’ll teach you to behave like a decent human being.” Taking the still burning cigarette in his hand, he pressed the flame against Caedan’s skin. Crying out in stunned pain, Caedan tried to pull away, digging his heals into the carpet. Darrel pulled him back, lifting the cigarette for only a split second before making another burn beside the first.

Tears streamed down Caedan’s cheeks, he looked back desperately at Beck, slack jawed as he watched the altercation between father and son.

Just as Darrel was about to create another burn, the back door slid open and in walked Bell, a smile quickly fading as he saw what his father was doing. “What the fuck?” he screamed, running over. He knocked the cigarette from Darrel’s fingers, quickly stomping it out as he pulled Caedan away, pushing him toward Beck. “Go upstairs,” he said sternly, turning back to Darrel once he heard their footsteps on the stairs. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“W-What do I do, man? Tell me what to do,” Beck frantically questioned, hands fluttering around Caedan’s hurt arm.

“I-I don’t know, fuck, it hurts.” Caedan pressed a cloth against the burns, hissing as the pain worsened. He dropped down on the edge of his bed, cursing quietly. Beck sat next to him, his eyes flicking to the door anxiously.

Hesitantly, Caedan pulled the cloth back, eyes blowing wide at the sight of blood staining it. Looking down at his arm, he gasped.

Invisible hands wrapped around his lungs, constricting his airway. His hands grasped at his shirt, suddenly wanting to rip it off, as if it was the cause of his restricted breathing. His chest heaved up and down rapidly, shallow, hyperventilated breaths barely passing his lips.

Beck jumped back, “What’s wrong? Hey, Caedan, just breathe, man.”

Caedan gasped as he tried forcing his airways open, eyes wide and full of panic. “H-He-elp.”

“What do I do? What’d you need?”

“B-Bel-lamy _…_ ”

“Bell! Help!” Beck screamed.

Seconds later, Bell burst through the door, forehead creasing and eyebrows furrowing at the sight of his distressed little brother. “What happened?”

“I-I don’t know, h-he just looked at his arm and started hyperventilating. I-I don’t know what to do. What’s wrong with him, Bell?” Beck rambled, looking at his friend helplessly.

Moving to Caedan’s side, Bell put one hand on his back. “Panic attack,” Bell whispered in realization. Beck raised his eyebrows in question. “He’s having a panic attack. My friend Cody gets them.” Turning Caedan so he was facing him, he kept his hands steady on his shoulders. “Caedan, you need to breath, okay? Just do what I do, okay?” Caedan nodded frantically. “Okay, breathe in.” He did, only stopping when he couldn’t possibly bring anymore air in. Caedan struggled, shuttering breaths slowly filling his lungs. “Breathe out. Okay, c’mon, again.”

Beck watched the brothers in fascination. Where he’d been completely panicked and near hyperventilating himself, Bell was calm, a strong wall of support.

Slowly, Caedan’s color returned, and his breathing evened out. “You okay?” Bell asked, taking his hands off his brother’s shoulders. Caedan nodded, taking in one more deep breath. “Let me see.” Caedan held his arm out, wincing when Bell ran his thumb over the irritated skin surrounding the burns. “I think you need to get this checked out. C’mon, I’ll take you to the hospital.”

* * *

Walking through the front door, Caedan saw the lamp on in the living room, illuminating just enough for him to see Darrel sitting in his favorite chair for once empty handed. His eyes were trained on his silver wedding ring. For as long as he could remember, that ring had never once come off.

Straightening his back, Caedan made his way to the couch. Darrel looked up surprised. “Hey,” Caedan spoke reluctantly. He kept his eyes on his father, the cold feel of his stare causing the older man to shudder.

“Any news?” Darrel’s voice wavered. He cleared his throat.

“Nope. So, why’d you leave?”

Darrel shrugged half-heartedly. When Caedan remained silent, he spoke: “It didn’t feel right. Me being there and not you. You two have always been close, so I figured it’d be better for him to see you when he woke up.”

“ _If_ he wakes up,” Caedan reminded harshly. Nodding, he went on, “Yeah, we were close. Have you ever wondered why neither of us is close to you?” After a moment’s hesitation, Darrel shook his head. “Because _you_ push us away. You’ve never even tried to care about me. You ignored me or beat me for everything.

“You never even asked to hear my side of what happened when I got expelled. You just believed their word instead and beat me for it, put me to work like a dog. You didn’t even try to fight for me.”

Darrel’s eyes rose slowly at the pause. “Caedan, what you did to that boy…”

“ _What I did_ was take care of the asshole that had been hounding my best friend for over a year. I did what _you_ taught us to do, I stood up for myself and someone I care about.” Darrel’s expression softened. “And Bell isn’t close to you because he **hates** you, more than I do. I’m _covered_ in scars I barely remember getting but he remembers _everything_. He saw what you did, and he wants you dead for it. And yes, he told me and I sure as _hell_ hate you for it. But I could never really hate _you_ because I get why _you_ hate _me_. I killed the love of your life. I have hated myself for that my whole life. I’m sorry. You have every right to hate me for that.” He paused, laughing to push back threatening tears. “Beck told me stories of playing games with his dad before he died. You know what _I_ remember? I remember getting a black eye for not being about to catch a baseball. I remember getting slammed into a wall for leaving my shoes out. I remember being burned for _you_ dropping Mom’s vase. Those are the childhood memories I have.”

Darrel put his head down. Angered, Caedan stood. He grabbed his father’s chin roughly, “I regret what I’ve done, what I did to Mom. I hate myself for it and I always will. If there was any way to change it, I would without a second thought, but I **can’t**! _Bell is dying, Dad_! Say goodbye! Trust me, you don’t want to live knowing you never said goodbye.”

Darrel said nothing. He pulled back from Caedan, staring at the floorboards again, eyes clouded with tears. Scuffing and shaking his head, Caedan stomped away and up the stairs, slamming his door behind him. Leaning back against the door, Caedan breathed heavily to dissipate his anger.

Throwing an old backpack on the bed, he stuffed a change of clothes, his sketchbook, and pencils in. As he picked it up, there was a hesitant knock on his door.

Darrel looked like a little kid about to be punished. “You going back to the hospital?” Eyeing his father carefully, Caedan nodded. “Can I go with you?”

“Whatever, gimme your keys.”

Darrel raised an eyebrow, “Why?”

“Beck took my car, don’t ask. Just… give me the keys.” Relenting, Darrel handed over his keys. “Let’s go.”

Darrel followed him out to his Jeep, keeping his head down cautiously. Inside the car, Caedan wasted no time starting the car and pulling out of the driveway. He barely managed to hide how his hands shook, keeping both hands on the wheel for the first time since getting his license. Darrel furrowed his brows at the strange behavior but said nothing.

Halfway to town, Darrel cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. “Why’d Beck take your car?”

Caedan sighed, running a hand through his hair, “He didn’t really take it, I guess. We got into an argument, he told me to get out, and I did. Guess technically I gave it to him.”

“Why were you arguing?”

“Because he lives in a happy little bubble where everything always works out in your favor and I popped it.”

Sucking in a breath after resolving the riddle, Darrel nodded, “Okay, so why was he driving your car?”

A strange looked flickered across Caedan’s face but was quickly gone, “I don’t know, he just took my keys and I didn’t feel like fighting him.”

Darrel nodded and turned back to stare out the window. Another song and a half passed before Caedan spoke next, “Why can’t you say it?”

Forehead creased in confusion, Darrel turned back to his son. “Say wh…”

“You told Beck to tell me ‘you’re sorry.’” Darrel’s face fell. “Why can’t you say it yourself?” He said nothing. “Ya know, after he said that I started thinking, and you know what I realized? You’ve never said sorry for _anything_. You’ve done some pretty bad shit, not just to me, and never apologize for any of it. So, why now? Why say sorry now? And why send it through Beck?”

“I-I know, Caedan, I have a lot to apologize for, especially to you. I-It’s just hard, you know?”

“No, I don’t.”

Darrel cleared his throat, “Well, for me it’s hard to face someone, to see the look on their face, the anger, and say I’m sorry. M-Maybe that makes me weak. Or a coward…”

“You’re damn right it does.”

“But I am. I-I don’t expect you to believe me, but I am s…” he broke off, choking on the word.

“I don’t believe you. Because if you really were sorry, then you’d _say it_.” Scoffing at the ashamed look on Darrel’s face, Caedan shook his head. “Fine. If it’s so hard to face me, maybe you can say it to Bell. After all, he can’t exactly respond.”

They lapsed back into silence. Darrel fiddled with his thumbs in his lap, eyes locked on the passing world outside. Caedan resisted the urge to punch the steering wheel, instead tightening his grip, pulling harshly on his hair with his free hand.

“I don’t hate you.”

The simple statement was so quiet Caedan wasn’t sure he’d even really heard it. Seeing Caedan’s head turn out of the corner of his eye, Darrel faced him, sighing heavily before continuing, “I don’t hate you for…what happened. It’s just…easier to blame someone, anyone, for something like that. It was so sudden and unexpected, I didn’t know what to do. I took my anger and pain out on you, and that isn’t fair to you, it’s not like you chose it.” He paused, sniffing, pushing back tears that threatened to fall. “I, uh, I’ve never told you this and I don’t think Bell did either but…you were supposed to be a twin.” Caedan took his eyes off the road again, looking at his father in bewilderment. “When your mother was about five months along, we went to her doctor’s appointment and we found out that we’d lost one of the babies, your brother.

“We were…heartbroken. For almost two weeks straight, she never left our bedroom. And then, suddenly, she changed. She was…glowing. She came bounding out of the bedroom, a bright smile on her face, she was happier than I ever thought I’d seen her. I couldn’t understand it, I was still so angry about the loss and she was completely fine, literally overnight. She told me that we couldn’t focus on the loss, we had to focus on you. On being there for you and Bell. Everything became about you, she ate healthy, she exercised, did everything the doctor said to keep you safe and healthy until you were born.

“And then,” he smiled, a tear falling down his cheek, “she woke me up at 7:15 in the morning on July 29th. We grabbed Bell and rushed to the hospital. It was a long and…difficult labor. But she was so strong, so happy and anxious to meet you.” Caedan wiped away a few of his own tears. “Twenty-six hours and thirty minutes later, you were born. Our, um, happiness and relief was short lived. Almost immediately the doctors could tell something was wrong. You…you weren’t breathing right. I barely got a look at you before they were pushing me out the door and slamming it in my face. I pounded on that door so hard and for so long my hands started bleeding.

“By the time they let me back in, your mother was gone, and you were about to be rushed into surgery. Your aorta and pulmonary arteries were switched, they said it was a pretty rare condition, oxygen wasn’t getting to the rest of your body. I sat next to her bed, bawling my eyes out for over an hour. Bell was in the waiting room with your grandfather; they had no idea what had happened, and I didn’t know how to tell him.” Against his will, a sob escaped him. bowing his head, he rubbed his eyes, sniffing back the tears again. “I-It just didn’t make sense. You were so sick, and she was in perfect health, she went to the doctor every single week after we lost your brother, she did everything right. The doctors said your condition could’ve been a result of losing your brother. I was in pain, I was heartbroken, I wanted to die. And I took it out on you and Bell and I shouldn’t have.”

Pulling into the first open parking spot he saw, Caedan turned the car off. For an unbearably long minute, neither of them said a word.

Inhaling sharply, Caedan opened his door, “Let’s go.”

* * *

Beck was scrolling aimlessly through his phone when Caedan and Darrel walked through the doors, passing right by him. He straightened up, clearing his throat. Involuntarily, Caedan turned his head slightly before quickly turning back to the woman at the front desk.

While Darrel signed himself in, Beck made his way over to Caedan. Arms crossed defensively over his chest, Caedan blatantly looked away from Beck. “Can we talk? Please?”

Darrel turned, eyes flicking between the pair. “Uh, actually, Caedan, I would really like a few minutes alone with your brother, if that’s okay.” Caedan’s head snapped to his father. “Please.”

Shaking his head, he walked away, dropping down in a chair. Beck halfheartedly smiled in Darrel’s direction, taking a seat across from Caedan. Hands clasped tightly in his lap, Beck took a deep breath, “I’m sorry for earlier. I had no right to do that.” Caedan shrugged unenthusiastically. “I just…I just don’t like it when you get like that, it seriously scares me sometimes.” Caedan snorted, smirking. “I’m trying to explain why I freaked out, can’t you at least pretend to be interested in what I’m saying?” When there was still no solid response, Beck groaned, “It’s fine if you’re pissed at me, you should be, but can you please just talk to me? I’m just trying to keep you from keeling over or offing yourself. I hope you’d do the same for me if the roles were reversed.”

Blank russet eyes bore into Beck’s, sending a shiver down his spine. “Please just say something, anything.”

“Fuck you.”

Beck chuckled softly, “Okay, that counts. I’m sorry, I was out of line, okay? I’ll leave if you want me to.” Caedan looked down at his bouncing knee, biting the inside of his cheek. Tentatively, he shook his head. “You don’t want me to leave?”

“No, and I forgive you. Just don’t steal my car ever again unless I’m falling-down drunk, got it?” Smiling vivaciously, Beck nodded.

“What’s Darrel doing back? From how he sounded on the phone I didn’t think he was ever gonna come back. Or talk to you again.”

“I finally broke through his barriers, confronted him about his bad parenting choices. I told me that the least he could do for Bell is say goodbye.”

Beck’s face fell but he said nothing. Caedan was somehow even paler than before, his eyes dazed and dull. He thought of the food still in the backseat of the car, biting his bottom lip in thought. “Are you sure you’re not hungry?”

* * *

Sitting by Bell’s bedside, Darrel’s head ached from the slow beeps on the machines attached to his son. If not for the glowing green lines flashing on the heart monitor, he’d be sure Bell was dead.

“I, uh, I’m not really sure what to say…” Pausing, he cleared his throat. Bell was so pale, his hair greasy and matted to his head, his eyes were sunken in, one slightly swollen and blacker than the other. “I shouldn’t’ve called you…” Gripping his short hair tightly, tears sprang into his eyes. “I always forget that you’re still just a kid too, I’m supposed to be the adult. I’m supposed to take care of you guys…but… But I can’t. I-I’m a failure…at everything I try to do.

“I can’t take care of my own sons, I can’t run a business, I can’t even go a single day without getting drunk.” Clasping one of Bell’s hands in his, he sobbed, holding it tightly. “ _I’m so sorry, Bell._ I-I should’ve been better to you, and to Caedan. I-I should’ve _been there_. I-I let you down, I know, and there is no amount of words in the world that could explain how sorry I am.”

Sobbing harder, Darrel lifted his head, “It should’ve been me. You have been nothing but a good person, a good brother, and a damn good son, and this is how you’re repaid? How the hell is that fair?” His expression contorted into a scowl despite the tears that still fell down his face.

“I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to your mother and I passed up the chance with your grandfather. I-I don’t want to say goodbye to you, I’d give my last breath, every year I have lived, and every year I might have left for you if I could. Unfortunately, things don’t seem to work out that way.” Standing, Darrel bent over his son, brushing the hair off his forehead, and kissed his son’s forehead. “Goodbye, Bellamy. I love you.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

Four

  
  


_Out of the darkness beyond the pair of burning cars emerged a figure. Though it possessed the telling curves of a woman, it was clearly not human, at least not completely. Behind her were enormous shapes, like an angel’s wings._

_As it grew nearer, the flames highlighted prominent cheekbones, illuminated blood painted lips, yet somehow shadowed her eyes, making them appear as empty holes._

_The warmth of the flames and the feel of the wind blowing vanished, leaving only the bone chilling feeling of_ her _._

_Though her eyes were hidden, he knew she was not looking at him. reluctantly, he followed where they seemed to lead. Gasping soundlessly, his eyes fell on the blazing silhouette of his brother._

_He opened his mouth to speak, maybe to warn Bell of the impending fate, but no sound came. An invisible hand had wrapped itself around his throat, crushing his vocal cords, cutting off oxygen._

_The creature passed him. For only a second, their hands touched. An involuntary shudder ran through him. He stilled instantly, clamping his mouth shut._

* * *

Shooting upright into a sitting position, Caedan gasped, panting as he struggled to catch his breath.

Beck was out cold in the uncomfortable chair against the wall by the door, his head bowed to his chest, light snores emitting from him.

Caedan yanked his hand back from where it rested on Bell’s forearm, like the simple touch burning him.

Flames blazed behind his eyelids every time he blinked, the memory of the creature flashing like a slideshow.

Frantically pulling his sketchbook and pencils from his bag, he began drawing, moving like he was on autopilot. Shadows outlined flames, a black mass filling he center, wide wings folded behind her.

The adrenaline passed, and panic began setting in.

Caedan’s hand shook uncontrollably, the tip of his graphite pencil hovering just above the half-finished drawing on his lap. His chest rose and fell at an alarming rate, his heart pounding warningly.

As he drew another jagged line on the smudged page, he dropped the book on the edge of Bell’s bed in frustration. Pulling in a ragged breath, Caedan ran his hands through his knotted hair, tugging harshly at wadded clumps. Black spots filled his vision, the floor fell from under his feet. Swallowing forcefully, he jumped to his feet, clamping a hand over his mouth as he rushed into the en-suite bathroom.

He crashed to his knees, lunging over the toilet, barely managing to push his hair back before he threw up. He retched violently, his chest tightening, cutting off any air he might’ve managed to bring in between heaves. Tears streamed down his cheeks, falling into the mess beneath him.

Footsteps sounded from behind him. “Fuck, Caedan,” Beck gasped, voice raspy from sleep. A split second later, a pair of hands pulled his hair back into a messy, loose ponytail.

Wide eyed, Beck hesitantly placed a hand on Caedan’s back, rubbing small circles along his spine. His back arched under Beck’s hand as he threw up again. Beck grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut, swallowing down his own nausea. “Just get it out,” he mumbled. “You’re okay.”

Caedan gasped, his panic doubling as he pulled back, sitting back on his knees. Beck frantically ripped off some toilet paper, hastily wiping left over vomit from Caedan’s lips.

Somehow, Beck maneuvered Caedan so his back was against the wall. Shallow, rapid breaths passed Caedan’s lips. Dull, red tinted eyes were wide, pleading for help.

Tears brimmed in Beck’s eyes as he wished Bell would wake up _right now_ and take over.

Sobs interrupted Caedan’s gasps, shattering the last remains of the protective barriers he put up.

“W-What do I do?” Beck stammered, voice cracking. “What do you need?” The response wasn’t understandable, broken by another sob and desperate gasp for air.

The dams broke, tears spilling freely down Beck’s cheeks. His eyes momentarily left Caedan, falling hopelessly on the still body in the bed.

Wordlessly, he pulled Caedan into his arms, cradling Caedan’s head as the older teen continued to cry into him. after a moment, Caedan returned the embrace, finally pulling in a breath, only to let it out in a string of heart wrenching sobs.

* * *

Caedan had resigned to laying curled up on the bathroom floor after getting sick a second time. Beck returned with a water bottle and their boxed-up breakfast from earlier in hand. Caedan groaned at the sight of the boxes in Beck’s hand, shaking his head immediately.

“Caedan, you have to eat, that’s probably why you’re sick.”

Pushing himself into a sitting position, leaning his head against the wall, Caedan shook his head again, “If I eat anything, I’m gonna puke again.” Groaning at a fresh wave of pain and nausea, Caedan pressed his palms against his aching forehead. “Ugh, I think I have a fever.”

Beck knelt down beside him, putting the back of his hand against Caedan’s forehead, too, frowning, “Yeah, you do. Shit, you’re actually sick?”

“Looks like it.”

Beck sat next to him, pushing the food out of sight for the time being. “Maybe you should go home, get some sleep in an actual bed?”

Caedan’s head snapped up, glaring pathetically at Beck. “I’m not leaving.”

Beck opened his mouth to reply, getting cut off when Caedan lunged back over the bowl, dry heaving harshly. Grimacing, Beck patted his back. When it was over, and nothing had come up, Caedan fell back against the wall. “I really think it would be better if you went home. Or maybe to my house? My mom’s left me like a million messages so I gotta go back eventually, show them I’m not dead. Just for the night?” Eyes shut lightly, Caedan said nothing. “You can’t be comfortable in here or out there leaning half on the bed. I know I’m not comfortable in that chair. Let’s just go get some actual sleep. A few hours, I promise we’ll come back soon.”

Swallowing against rising nausea, Caedan nodded reluctantly. “Fine.”

Grabbing onto the sink, he pulled himself up, taking the water offered by Beck and rinsing his mouth out.

“You good to go?” Beck asked after watching Caedan basically struggle to get his jacket on. Caedan handed his keys over as an answer.

In the bright lights of the hall, it became even clearer how sick Caedan really was. His eyes were bloodshot and sunken in, his skin an odd grayish green color. He kept his head down, avoiding any prying eyes that may be watching. They made it to the parking lot in a surprisingly small amount of time. As soon as the passenger door shut, Caedan leaned against it, closing his eyes in discomfort.

Caedan winced at the music that immediately blared from the speakers silently cursing himself. Thankfully, Beck was quick to turn it down and to leave the parking lot.

* * *

“Why’s Dad always drunk?” Caedan inquired, plopping himself down on Bell’s bed.

“Because…he’s sad.” Bell answered, only looking up for a moment from his homework.

“But why? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile.”

Sighing and closing his notebook, Bell spun around on his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. “He’s sad because…he misses Mom.”

Caedan looked down, furrowing his eyebrows in frustration. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember a single thing about his mom without thinking about the picture of their wedding day hanging over the mantle. “Why can’t I remember her?”

Scratching his head, Bell sat back. “Because she died when you were… _really_ young.”

Caedan’s forehead creased. “Why aren’t there any pictures of me and her? There’s ones of you and her and tons of her and dad hidden away. But none of me.”

Bell’s eyes filled with tears, quickly and barely blinked away before Caedan could see. “C…Caedan…Mom…died on your birthday…” Confusion lingered on Caedan’s features. “There aren’t any pictures of you two because she…she never really saw you. She died _when_ you were born. D-Do you get it?”

Bottom lip trembling, Caedan nodded. “I killed Mom.”

Bell’s eyes blew wide. He jumped up from the chair, kneeling in front of Caedan, “No, no, you didn’t. Don’t ever think that. I-It just happened. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.” A tear slipped down Caedan’s cheek and was quickly wiped away by Bell’s thumb. “Sometimes bad things happen and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. _It wasn’t your fault_.”

Caedan nodded, looking away from Bell as he thought. “Does Dad hate me?”

“W-What?” Bell couldn’t stop himself from jumping back a bit. “N-No, no, of course he doesn’t. You’re his son, he could never hate you.”

* * *

“Caedan?” Beck turned the car off, unbuckling and relaxing back. “Caedan, we’re here.” Gently, he shook Caedan’s arm, rousing him from the light sleep he managed to fall into. Blearily, Caedan looked up, nodding absently at seeing Beck’s house. “C’mon.”

“Beck, is that you?”

Beck’s mother called out, hurrying through the kitchen doorway, a look of relief clear on her face. “Oh, Beck! I’ve been so worried! Are you okay?” Her expression changed as she finally noticed Caedan standing -leaning- against the door. “Oh, Caedan, honey, you look terrible.” Her eyes became sympathetic. She passed by her son, taking Caedan’s face gently in her hands. “Oh, you have a fever. You feeling okay, sweetie?” Caedan exhaled heavily, shaking his head. “Come here, hun, we’ll get you some medicine.” Lethargically, Caedan let himself be pulled into the kitchen. “What’s wrong, hun?”

Caedan sat down heavily on one of the kitchen stools, folding his arms on the counter and putting his head down. “There’s a sledgehammer slamming against my skull, my stomach is trying to claw its way out, and my throat feels like it’s on fire.”

Standing in the doorway, Beck sighed at the recitation of Caedan’s symptoms.

“You probably caught something from another patient. You know, hospitals aren’t as clean as they say they are,” Beck’s mother said, digging around in the medicine cabinet. She brought over two bottles of strange colored and no doubt terrible smelling liquid medicine and a half-empty bottle of pain killers. “Okay, this first, it should help your stomach a bit,” she said pouring it out for him. Grimacing at the off-mint taste, Caedan drank it, practically slamming the cup back down. “Now, this is for the fever.” It was neon orange and smelled worse than Darrel. Caedan could barely stop himself from gagging at the taste. “I know, it’s revolting, isn’t it? Here, this should help your headache and throat. They’re from when Beck broke his arm, so they’re kinda strong, they’ll probably put you to sleep pretty fast.”

Caedan swallowed the pill quickly, disappointed at having to wait for them to set in. His stomach turned warningly at the added contents, making him groan. “You okay?” she asked, placing a gently hand on his shoulder. He nodded, burying his face in his arms. Rubbing his shoulder lightly, she looked up at her son in the doorway. “Beck, could you take out the pull-out bed in the living room?” Raising an eyebrow, Beck nodded and left.

Smiling in gratitude as her son left, she returned her attention to Caedan, squeezing his shoulder gently. “I’m sorry about Bellamy. I’m sure he’ll be okay, he just needs some time.” Caedan remained silent, staring at the counter-top under his arms.

Returning to the kitchen, Beck cleared his throat, tearing his mother’s eyes from the crumpled for hunched over the counter. “The bed’s ready. I put some pillows and blankets on it for you, Cae.”

Lifting his head, Caedan nodded, pushing himself to his feet, groaning at the wave of dizziness that hit him like a brick. Beck resisted the urge to rush over and support his friend. Slowly, Caedan stumbled his way into the living room, practically collapsing on the bed. Almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was asleep.

Beck’s mother followed, draping a light blanket over his shoulders while Beck pulled off his boots. “C’mon, hun, I’ll make us some dinner.” Beck followed her back into the kitchen, taking a seat on the stool Caedan had been on minutes before. “Poor thing, he looks so exhausted.” Beck nodded, propping his elbow on the counter, resting his chin on his palm. “How does his brother look? How’s his father holding up?”

“Darrel’s not holding up. He’s barely even gone to see Bell and hasn’t really been talking to Caedan.” Scratching his head, Beck sighed. “Honestly, Bell already looks dead.” Her face fell. She spun around, busying herself with getting out ingredients for dinner. “The doctors aren’t really saying or doing anything. They basically just poke their heads in every once in a while, to make sure he’s not dead yet.” She shook her head, blinking away tears that grew from memories. “It probably won’t be long now. Caedan’s obsessed with being there for him but Bell probably doesn’t even know he’s there.”

Turning back, she leaned against the counter, fiddling with a wooden spoon in her hand. “Beck, it’s not always about the patient and whether or not they know you’re there. Being there probably helps Caedan deal with it better.”

“Trust me, he’s not dealing with it.”

Setting the spoon down, she moved over, rubbing between Beck’s shoulder blades. “Everybody copes in different ways. Caedan will be okay, just give him time.” Beck leaned into her, resting his head on her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him, rubbing his arm. “And please, let him know that he is more than welcome to stay here if…if things at home get complicated.” Beck nodded. Pulling back slightly, she held Beck’s chin, “How are _you_ doing?”

Beck shrugged, “I don’t know, really.” Sitting up, he scrunched his eyebrows together. “I’ve been so worried about making sure Caedan’s okay I haven’t really thought about myself much.”

“I’m glad you’re trying to be a good friend, Caedan’s going to need you when… But don’t push aside how you feel, that matters, too.”

“How did you feel when Dad died?” Surprised, she took a step back. “I-I’m sorry, I just…”

“No, no, it’s okay. I…I just wasn’t expecting it.” Turning back around, she mindlessly stirred the boiling pot n the stove. “I was devastated…and heartbroken about it. I cried for weeks. I tried not to show how upset I was in front of you but sometimes I just couldn’t hide it.” Smiling, she turned back, placing her palm against his cheek. “If it wasn’t for you, I don’t think I could’ve made it through. You were my rock and the only thing that kept me going. You’ve always been a great support system for everyone in times of need, I was like that, too. But how you feel is just as important as how they feel.”

* * *

“ _That’s my son in there! Tell me what the fuck is going on!”_

_Beep…_

“ _Sir, you have to calm down, the doctors are doing everything they can…”_

_Beep…_

“ _Is he gonna be okay?”_

“ _I-It’s not looking great, he lost a lot of blood, he made some drastic incisions.”_

_Beep…_

“ _And with his existing heart condition, there can be complications. We’re monitoring him carefully but I’m afraid we’re going to have to hope fate is on his side.”_

_Blaring white lights, a million hands brushing over him, pushing and tugging at his arms. Doctors shouting and mumbling to each other, muttering words he could barely hear._

“ _I-I should’ve known! I should’ve done something!”_

“ _Sweetie, you did everything you could have, you did everything right. If it wasn’t for you, he probably wouldn’t have even made it into the hospital.”_

_Cold rushed in, filling the blinding white room. Soon, a shadow covered his vision. The doctors vanished, all sounds faded. A floating feeling took over, lifting him from his limp body on the stiff stretcher._

* * *

Knuckles pressed against Caedan’s forehead, Beck shook his head, “Mom, I think his fever spiked. He’s really sweaty and keeps tossing and turning.”

His mom entered, kneeling next to Beck, copying Beck’s actions. “He’s burning up.” She shook her head. “Beck, go get one of the ice-packs, wrap it in a towel and bring it back, please?”

Quickly, he nodded and left. From the kitchen, he could hear Caedan groaning and turning over again in his sleep. Biting his lip, he did as she said, hands shaking so much he almost dropped the ice-pack more than once. His mother took it from him, holding it against Caedan’s forehead. Caedan twitched, his face contorting in discomfort.

Beck sat on the foot of the bed, chewing on his bottom lip again hard enough to draw blood. Looking away from the sick teen, his mother smiled softly, “He’s gonna be okay, baby.”

Beck shook his head, “I’m not really worried about him being sick.”

Placing a hand on his knee, she tilted her head to the side, “Things are gonna be tough for a while but Caedan is a tough guy, he’ll be fine.” Beck put his head down. “What is it really, baby?”

Beck sighed shakily, “I don’t know.”

“Are you upset about Bellamy?”

He nodded, “Yeah, of course. But I don’t think that’s it.”

Caedan turned again, whining. She turned away from Beck, stroking Caedan’s cheek in the motherly way.

“Yesterday, Caedan and I had a fight. Ever since the stuff with Bell started, he’s been acting weird, kinda like Darrel. I keep expecting him to drive his car off a bridge.”

Her eyes softened. She stood, taking Beck’s hands and pulling him into the kitchen. She flicked on the light, closing the door separating the living room, leaving it open just a crack. Sitting on a stool at the counter, she patted the other. Hesitantly, Beck sat next to her. “Caedan is not Darrel. He’s upset and he’s hurting. But he is not the kind of person that would do something like that.”

“You weren’t there, Mom.” Beck shook his head, scratching his scalp nervously. “I’ve had this feeling, a really, really bad feeling that I just can’t shake. I know something bad is gonna happen. I don’t know how bad or when, but I know something will.”

* * *

Throwing the first ice-pack back in the freezer, Beck grabbed the next, wrapping it in the same towel as before.

“Beck, can you grab the ear thermometer from the cabinet above the stove?” his mother called, concern dripping from her voice.

Returning with the ice-pack and thermometer, Beck handed the latter to his mom, pressing the ice-pack against Caedan’s forehead. Not bothering to hide the worry in her eyes, she put the thermometer in, waiting impatiently for the telltale beep.

“103.2,” she shook her head. “If it gets any higher, we’re gonna have to take him back to the hospital.” Silent, Beck looked away. “Um, baby, why don’t you go back and see how Bellamy’s doing? I promise I’ll call if anything happens.”

“Caedan would want to see him, too.”

Sighing, she took the ice-pack from Beck’s hand, patting his knee, “If he goes anywhere near the hospital right now, they’ll admit him. Just go for a little bit, it’ll be fine.”

Inhaling deeply, Beck nodded reluctantly. Pushing himself up from the bed, he grabbed his coat and Caedan’s keys. Nodding, Beck smiled at his mother before leaving.

As soon as she heard the car start and leave, she stood, grabbing her cell phone from the end table, heading into the kitchen.

It rang four and a half times, and just as she was getting ready to give up, he answered groggily, “Hello?”

“Darrel,” she answered.

Sighing, Darrel chuckled dryly, “Gemma Michaels. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I just thought you’d like to know that your son is passed out on my couch with a 103 fever.”

“Caedan?” Suddenly, he sounded much more awake, Gemma could hear the ruffling of sheets as he sat up in bed. “I-Is he okay? Do you need me to come get him?”

“No, no, you don’t have to come get him. As for being okay, he will be. He just needs lots of rest and he’ll be fine,” she paused, running her fingers through her knotted hair. “I just thought I should tell you. Although from the sound of things, you don’t seem too concerned. I take it you had no idea he was here at all, huh?”

“Uh, n-no, I-I thought he was staying at the hospital. I had no idea he was sick. When I saw him, he looked a little crappy, but I just thought it was exhaustion.”

“That’s probably part of it, it’s no secret he’s under some stress right now.”

“Look, I’m getting dressed right now. I’ll be by in a little bit, okay?”

“You really don’t have…”

“No, I want to. I-I know it’s probably better for him to be there, you can take care of him a million times better than I can, but I still want to see him. Just for a few minutes? Please?”

Looking back into the living room, Gemma sighed, biting the inside of her cheek, “Fine.”

* * *

“Hi, I’m here to see Bellamy Reid?” Beck tapped his fingers on the desk nervously.

“Relation?” the grumpy old lady behind the desk asked, lazily rolling her eyes in his direction.

“Um, no relation, just a friend?”

She shook her head, “Sorry, family only.”

“I-I know, but please, can I just see him for a minute? I promise I won’t be any trouble.”

“ _Family only_.”

Groaning, he started to talk again, cut off when a doctor looking to be in his mid-thirties walked up. The woman turned her attention away from Beck. “Can I have the chart for Bellamy Reid?”

Beck’s head snapped toward the doctor, “Your Bellamy’s doctor?”

Smiling slightly uncomfortably, he nodded, “Well, one of them, I’m Doctor Sanders. And you are?”

“Uh, Beck Michaels, a family friend. I came to see how he’s doing, his dad and brother are…busy right now.”

“Oh, well, hospital policy is that we only allow immediate family members in the room.” Beck nodded, putting his head down. Glancing back at the woman behind the desk, Doctor Sanders sighed, “C’mon, you can’t actually go in, but I can give you an update on his condition. How’s that sound?”

Beck nodded quickly, “Yeah, yeah, sounds great.”

Doctor Sanders smiled, “Okay, follow me.” Sparing a victorious look at the grouchy woman, Beck followed Sanders down the hall. “Bellamy’s situation is unique, to say the least. Coming in, his injuries didn’t seem to be much more than surface wounds, he was semi-responsive, a little out of it, sure, but awake and able to at least comprehend when someone was talking to him. The more the ER doctors worked, the worse his condition got. We’re trying everything we can think of but he’s not responding to any of our treatments.” Seeing the defeated look on Beck’s sullen face, Sanders placed a hand on his shoulder as they reached Bellamy’s room. “However, for the most part, he isn’t getting any worse either. He’s stable. For now.” Beck nodded slowly, looking disheartened through the wide window. “Let his family know that we are doing everything we can.”

* * *

Darrel brushed stray hairs off Caedan’s forehead, smiling softly when Caedan shifted closer to his touch. Pressing the back of his fingers against Caedan’s forehead, he shook his head at the heat that virtually radiated from him.

Gemma entered, holding two cups of coffee, unable to hold back a soft smile. “How’s he doing?”

Darrel shrugged, “Still way too warm. Thank you,” he took the offered cup of coffee. “How sick is he?”

Gemma shrugged, sitting on the other couch. “Don’t know, really. He’s been in and out of it since he got here, sleeping most of the time. I keep giving him meds hoping to push off the worst of it. Beck said he got sick a few times before they got here.”

Darrel nodded. Caedan’s forehead scrunched in pain, he turned onto his side, curling up. Darrel rubbed Caedan’s shoulder awkwardly. “Thank you…for taking care of him.”

Gemma shook her head dismissively, “Don’t worry about it, I’m happy to.”

Darrel nodded, “He could use a little ‘motherly love.’” Gemma bit her tongue, stopping herself from saying anything.

Confused by the silence, Darrel turned to face her. Before he could say anything, Caedan jolted, eyes shooting open as he gagged, hand flying up to cover his mouth. Darrel grabbed the trash can, helping Caedan to lean over and holding the bin for him. Caedan retched harshly, bile splattering on the bottom of the bin. Darrel winced, rubbing Caedan’s back comfortingly. Gemma itched to jump up and take over, taking back by Darrel taking responsibility so easily.

“Just get it out, Cae. That’s it, you’re okay,” Darrel whispered, combing back Caedan’s falling hair.

Soon, Caedan stopped throwing up, pulling away from the bucket, breathing heavily. Barely registering that Darrel was the one by his side, he fell back on the pillow, almost instantly falling back asleep. Darrel grabbed the towel holding the most recent melted ice-pack, using it to wipe the sweat off off Caedan’s forehead and wipe his lips clean.

Darrel stood, taking the towel, bin, and ice-pack into the kitchen. Gemma followed, arms crossed over her chest, smiling. “Wow, that was…impressive.”

“Huh? It’s not that hard. Plus, that kid’s cleaned up my puke more than enough times. Figure it’s time I start paying him back.”

Gemma cringed at the mental image. “Well, still, it was sweet. And totally uncharacteristic.” Darrel shrugged, carrying the bin into the adjacent bathroom.  Gemma followed him, “Beck told me you haven’t really seen Bellamy since the accident.”

Darrel shuddered, looking away as the contents of the bin poured into the toilet. “Things have been tense between me and Caedan. Since he’s been practically living there, I decided to give him some space.”

“Darrel, this is not the time to leave them alone. They need you more than ever.”

Darrel rolled his eyes, “They haven’t needed me since they were kids.”

Gemma scuffed, “You know, I’ve known you practically forever, Darrel and I am beyond over the self-pitying, everyone is. Why don’t you think of someone else for once in your life?”

Slamming his fist on the skin, Darrel groaned, “I already said goodbye. I-I can’t go back there. I just can’t.”

“Mom?” Beck’s voice called through the house, followed by the front door closing.

Gemma ignored it for a moment, waiting for Darrel to say something else. Instead he pushed past her. Rolling her eyes, Gemma followed.

“Darrel?” Beck looked over at Caedan. “What’re you doing here?”

“Nothing, I was just leaving.” Beck stepped in front of him before he could get to the door. “Beck…”

“I talked to Bellamy’s doctor today. He said to tell you that they’re doing everything they can and that Bell’s stable.” Darrel nodded numbly, continuing out the door. After the door shut, Beck turned back to Gemma. “What was he doing here?”

“He wanted to see how Caedan was doing. He was actually fine while he was here, he helped Caedan a bit when he got sick again.” Gemma shook her head, rubbing her aching forehead. “Anyway, you, um, you talked to Bellamy’s doctor?”

Nodding slowly, Beck looked back at Caedan, “Yeah, he said…”

“Uh, come in the kitchen, hun.” Raising an eyebrow, Beck did as told. “So, what did the doctor say? I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening before, I was a distracted.”

“He just said they’re doing everything they can. But Bellamy isn’t responding to any of the treatments they’re trying.”

Gemma frowned, “But he’s stable, right?”

Beck gave a half-hearted nod, “Yeah, but I don’t think that means much right now, Mom.” He dropped back into a chair at the small kitchen table. “Every time I see him, I want to throw up. The _thing_ lying in that bed is not Bellamy. It’s just a…a body.”

Leaning on the counter, Gemma nodded sullenly, “Sweetheart, that’s a perfectly natural reaction to have when something like this happens. But he’s still Bellamy.”

“No,” he shook his head sharply, “no, it’s not. Mom, you haven’t seen him. it’s a shell. Bellamy’s gone.”

 


	6. Five

Five

  
  


“Here’s your coffee,” Beck said, handing the steaming foam cup to Caedan. Caedan barely looked up, blindly taking the cup with one hand while the other was still uncontrollably sketching away. Scrunching his eyebrows in confusion, Beck peered over Caedan’s shoulder. Lights and machines resembling the ones around Bellamy’s bed decorated the outer edges of the page, while in the center was an odd shaped black mass. “What’s that supposed to be?”

Caedan stopped sketching, slamming his drawing hand against the page, rolling his eyes toward Beck, clearly irritated. Beck stepped back, putting a hand as a sign of surrender. Dropping back into his designated chair against the wall. Caedan practically chugged his coffee, setting it on the side table by Bellamy’s bed. Sipping slowly on his own coffee, Beck raised an eyebrow, “Okay, first, that was literally scorching so how the Hell did you drink it in one gulp? And second, maybe you should slow down on the coffee, your heart’s gonna beat out of your chest.”

“My _heart_ is fine,” Caedan snapped. His hand moved like a robot, scribbling the black mass in further; Beck half expected the tip of the pencil to go right through the book.

“You sure you’re feeling alright?”

Caedan scuffed, sitting back in his chair. “Yes, Beck, I’m fine. I was fine the last twenty fucking times you asked me.”

Beck shook his head, eyes boring a hole in Caedan’s back, “What the fuck is your problem? You’ve been a dick since we got here.”

Caedan whipped around, red irises glaring at Beck intimidatingly, “If you haven’t noticed, my brother’s in a _coma_ , currently showing no sign of waking up anytime soon. I think I have a right to be pissed off.”

Beck bolted up straight, anger painted across his face, “Yeah, I have noticed, and you do have every right to be pissed off, but you have no right to take it out on me. If _you_ haven’t noticed, I’m the _only_ person that has been here, making sure you don’t jump off a bridge, _every single day_. And I’m not expecting an actual ‘thank you’ but a little less attitude would be kinda nice. But if that’s too difficult for you, I’d be more than happy to fucking leave.”

“So, go.” Caedan shrugged, as if it didn’t matter at all. “It’s not your brother, it’s not your problem to deal with, there’s nothing keeping you here. If you wanna leave, leave, I’m not gonna stop you.”

Beck stared for a moment, his anger dissipating for a breath of a moment, briefly replaced by clear hurt. His expression hardened, eyes narrowing, and jaw setting sternly, “That’s how you want it to be?” Caedan remained silent. “Do you realize that if it wasn’t for me you’d probably be dead by now?”

Caedan froze, his expression flickering, confusion and fear discernible in his eyes. Darkness peeked at the edge of Caedan’s vision, followed swiftly by the cold plaguing his nightmares. Beck’s anger wavered, concern taking over once again. Caedan’s heart raced, his air being cut off. He was subconsciously aware of the odd beeping of Bellamy’s heart monitor behind him.

Beck’s eyes widened, staring at the glowing green lines on the monitor, making to jump up from his chair, stopped when Doctor Sanders burst through the door, followed by two nurses. Doctor Sanders asked Caedan to move, only to be completely ignored. Robotically, Caedan turned in his chair, as if following some invisible movement. Beck jumped up, grabbing Caedan’s arm, yanking him out of the chair and out the door.

Caedan’s legs almost gave out, he fell against the wall, held up only by Beck’s lightning fast grip.

“Cae…? Caed…? Caedan!”

The darkness receded. Caedan snapped back to reality, staring wide eyed at Beck. “What the hell was that, man? You just totally shut down!” Caedan took a deep breath, pressing his back against the windows of Bellamy’s room, rubbing his eyes. “Hey,” Beck put a hand on Caedan’s shoulder, “you okay? What happened?”

He shook his head, “I don’t know…” Turning and looking back into the room, they saw Doctor Sanders stepping away from Bellamy, looking slightly relieved despite the concerned doctor look still on his face.

Sanders and the nurses walked out, Sanders exhaled deeply, “He stabilized. I’m not sure what happened. He should be okay for now.” He looked over at Beck, his expression falling. “Unfortunately, an incident like this over all is not a good sign.” Looking back at the nurses, he nodded, dismissing them. “As a doctor I’m supposed to give you the typical doctor speech, tell you we’ll do everything we can to help. As a person who has been in a similar position as you’re in now, I think it’s better if you’re told the truth, I know I wish I had heard the truth… I’m sorry, but it probably won’t be long now.”

Beck instantly looked over at Caedan, mouth open to speak. Caedan only nodded, numb and blank faced. Shocked by the lack of a reaction, Beck turned back to Sanders, “Thank you, can we go back in?” Sanders nodded and left. Nudging Caedan through the door, Beck shut it behind them, leaning against it. “So, what happened before?”

Returning to his chair by Bellamy’s bed, Caedan shrugged, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “I don’t know, I just got this really bad…feeling. Like a head-rush, kinda.”

Beck nodded solemnly, looking at the ground, eyes flicking nervously. “D-Did you feel like…really cold?”

Caedan looked up, eyebrows scrunching together, “You felt it, too? Did you…did you see anything?”

Beck raised an eyebrow, shaking his head, “No, uh, did you?” Horror and embarrassment took over Caedan’s face, he quickly shook his head.

Confused by Caedan’s expression, Beck nodded slowly. Caedan looked away, turning in his chair. Caedan picked up his sketchbook again, Beck pulled his chair away from the wall, sitting at the foot of Bellamy’s bed. Beck resisted the urge to shudder, a sick feeling running through him at the prospect of being so close to a soon to be corpse. Caedan stared at the newest drawing, hands shaking.

Feeling Beck’s concerned eyes boring into him, Caedan straightened up, clearing his throat, “I’m gonna go call Darrel, let him know what’s going on.” Before Beck could respond, Caedan was out the door.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Beck shoved his chair back, taking a deep breath. Caedan rushed into the nearest bathroom, locking the door behind him. His chest heaved, fighting feebly to bring in enough air to fill his lungs. Clawing at his shirt, he gasped, squeezing his eyes together tightly. Sliding down the wall, he tugged roughly at his hair, a scream building in his quickly constricting throat.

Beck tentatively lifted the sketchbook from Caedan’s chair. Flipping back to the front, he smiled at the innocent looking sketch of the trees that surrounded Caedan’s house. It was hard to catch Caedan without his sketchbook; whenever he drew, it was like he left reality completely, a building could burn down around him but if he was drawing, he’d barely notice. He drew _everything_ , from people and landscapes to things he saw in his dreams. Whatever he saw in his dreams was hardly ever a pleasant sight; for as long as Beck had known him, Caedan had suffered nightmares so bad they almost always resulted in a panic attack.

Beck froze. The next drawing _was_ from a dream, the dream he had the night before Bellamy’s car accident. They’d all seen the photos taken by the first responders; the drawing matched them perfectly. After the two of the car crash was one of Bellamy in the bed, eerily similar to looking up at Bellamy right now, reminding Beck just how close to death Bell really was.

* * *

Caedan’s focused sketching was interrupted by loud, hacking coughs that made his head shoot up. Bellamy was still motionless in his bed, so pale he nearly blended in with the sheets beneath him.

The coughs sounded again, more choked and desperate this time, their volume fading slowly.

He was on his feet in an instant, rushing over to the almost wide window at the front of the room. Across the hall was an identical room. Jerking up wildly as she coughed so hard he half expected her to actually cough up a lung a woman obviously younger than Darrel but deathly pale and frail looking laid in the bed. He frowned in sympathy.

A figure shrouded in a dark, ominous cloud emerged from the corner, staring determinedly at the sick woman.

Short, torn black dress, long blonde curls, blood red lips, flawless porcelain skin, and enormous black angel wings. He stared wide eyed at the scene unfolding before him, unable to make a single sound.

The woman’s head turned to look at the angel at her side, staring down with a cold, unfeeling smile. She spoke, her words diffusing through the walls as she leaned over the dying woman, “ _Vostrum pugna perago.”_

Blank, soulless eyes stared up at the ceiling before there was the undeniable, ear piercing beep of the flatline seeping through the walls that separated the two rooms. Within seconds, a pair of nurses were rushing into the room.

Beck paused at the door, a coffee in each hand, shuddering at the sight of the nurses fluttering around the dead woman. Opening the room, he raised an eyebrow at the sight of Caedan standing shell-shocked in the window.  “Hey,” he spoke suddenly, making Caedan jump in surprise, “you okay?”

Distractedly, Caedan nodded. Barely able to look away from the dead woman, he slowly returned to his chair. “Want your coffee?” Robotically picking up his sketchbook once again, Caedan shook his head. “Okay…”

Changing the page, he started drawing, outlining the shape of the unwanted guest in the other room, filling in the dress and shading the wings slowly.

Sipping his coffee, Beck watched Caedan work, memories of the car crash drawing flashing transparently in his mind.

“Hey,” Beck spoke up after what felt like hours of unbearably awkward silence passed, watching Caedan draw like his life depended on it. “What’s you with you? Ever since yesterday you’ve been acting weird. And what was that at the window?”

“Nothing, I just got a little freaked out,” Caedan responded emptily.

“Seriously? No, it’s gotta be more than that.” Caedan’s hand paused momentarily, Beck half expected him to turn and face him. But then the moment passed, and Caedan resumed drawing. “Why won’t you talk to me? Look, I’m sorry about yesterday, I was tired and stressed and honestly, worried sick about you, hell, I still am. You’re scaring me, Cae. I’ve never seen you act like this before and I’m not sure what to do anymore.”

“It’s not your job to do anything. I’m 19, I can handle myself.” This time, Caedan stopped drawing fully, seemingly frustrated with whatever it was he was working on. Setting the book down on the bed, he turned the chair to face Beck. “I know it probably doesn’t seem like it, but I really do appreciate you being here and everything you’ve done to help me through this.” Beck couldn’t help but smile. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass to you, I shouldn’t take my problems out on you. Unfortunately, I’m more fucked up than you could probably even begin to understand. There’s so much bouncing around in my head I can barely make sense of any of it, so I don’t expect you to either. Thank you for trying to help me as much as you can, but there’s really nothing you can do.”

* * *

Sitting in the chair against the wall, Beck was twisted into an obviously uncomfortable position, fast asleep. In the chair, next to the bed, arms folded on the edge with his head resting on them was Caedan. His still open sketch book had fallen off his lap onto the floor.

Bellamy looked at the drawing of an eyeless dark angel curiously. Then, a rush of cold engulfed him like an unexpected hug. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Caedan shiver and though he was going to wake. But he remained still.

Bellamy’s chest tightened as he looked up, seeing the slowing heart rate projected on the monitor, and his own, banged up, limp body on the bed.

He looked around frantically until his eyes landed on a girl on the side of his hospital bed. Black wings like in Caedan’s drawing were folded behind her and she wore the same black dress. Icy blue eyes considered his own, a dark red smile chilling him to his core.

She said nothing but the wise, knowing look in the otherwise emotionless eyes told Bellamy all he needed to know.

He shook his head stubbornly, “N-No, I-I can’t. . . I can’t leave yet.” He turned to look at his sleeping little brother, suddenly painfully reminded of when Caedan was much younger and would beg to sleep in his room after a bad dream. “He needs me. . .”

When he turned back to look at the mysterious being, her own eyes were tracing over the boy crumpled in the chair. The chilling smile was gone, and her eyes had softened tremendously though it was still clear that she did not fully understand.

“W-he has lost everyone. I-I can’t leave him.” His voice broke and wavered but no tears fell. “He needs me.”

A shiver ran down Caedan’s spine as a rush of cold wind hit him. His eyes fluttered open slightly, barely catching a glimpse of a dark shadow in the room.

Moments later, when he felt a strange shift on the bed, he woke fully. Eyes hopeful, he looked up, only for fear and dread to wash over him as his eyes landed on the dark angel hovering over his brother. Before he could mutter a single word, she recited the ceremonial mantra: “ _Vostrum pugna perago_.”

Beck bolted awake at the sound of the heart monitor flatlining. Caedan’s eyes were wide, he clutched his brother’s hand tightly in his own.

“No,” he begged, nearly inaudible, slowly getting to his feet, leaning over Bellamy. “No, y-you c-can’t be dead. . .” As his voice rose and panic grew in him, he shook Bellamy’s shoulders lightly at first. “Please don’t be dead.”

Beck watched in horror as Caedan tried desperately to wake his deceased brother.He approached hesitantly, placing a slightly shaking hand on Caedan’s shoulder that was quickly jerked away. “Hey,” he whispered, clearing his throat, “hey, c’mon.” He pulled lightly on Caedan’s shoulders as the room slowly began filling with doctors and nurses.

“No,” Caedan yanked back but Beck held on tightly. “No! H-He c-can’t be dead.”

Doctor Sanders helped Beck pull Caedan away from Bellamy despite his weak, broken protests. “I’m sorry,” Doctor Sanders mumbled after ushering them into the hallway.

* * *

Caedan fell alarmingly silent after leaving the hospital. He was like a mirror with countless small cracks threatening to destroy him at any moment.

Beck drove, turning the music up so the silence was partially drowned out. He’d glance over at Caedan every occasionally, but there was no change. Caedan was completely catatonic. The drive felt immeasurably longer.

When they arrived at Caedan’s house, they found his father sitting in his favorite chair with a half-full glass of whiskey in his hand. He jumped, spilling some of the a

alcohol over the edge of the glass when the door was shut behind the boys. His eyes flickered between the two of them, his own face darkening with realization.

“No,” he whispered. “No, i-it can’t b-be true. . .”

Beck and Caedan sat on the couch set under two wide windows at the front of the house. “I’m so sorry,” Beck began, eyes locked on his shaking hands clasped together in his lap.

His chest rising and falling rapidly, the glass shakily placed on the coffee table, the man crumpled into himself, ugly sobs breaking through the threshold.

For an unknown length of time, that’s how they sat; Caedan still and silent, Beck fighting back his own grief, and the shattered remains of an abusive, hated man sobbing at the loss of his eldest son.

Without warning, he stood, stomping over to the mantle above the fireplace. Caedan watched him with confused, but barely interested eyes. He lifted an old vase from the mantle and wordlessly hurled it at the wall.

With an indescribably sound, the vase broke against the wall, leaving a deep indent and chipped burgundy paint in its wake. The broken pieces of stone fell, five far passed dead reddish pink roses following.

Caedan stared at the mess in bewilderment. That vase had remained untouched ever since Darrel had accidentally dropped it.

Looking at the remains, he was startled and for the first time in his life, truly terrified of his father.

 


	7. Six

Six

  
  


“Today, we lay to rest Bellamy Daniel Reid. He will be remembered as being a reliable, trustworthy friend, a loyal son, and a loving brother.”

Stone cold expression, hands clasped together with white knuckles, Caedan stared down at the sleek black coffin. Darrel stood on his right, fighting to stay upright through his drunken swaying, and Beck and Gemma on his left.

At the Priest’s words, Beck looked up, hesitantly placing a hand on Caedan’s shoulder. Caedan tensed, barely stopping himself from flinching away. A little insulted by the reaction, Beck pulled his hand back, stepping closer to his mother. Gemma wrapped her arm around Beck’s waist, pulling him into her side.

Caedan scrunched his eyes shut, feeling his chest contract forebodingly, watching as the coffin was lowered. He could feel Darrel look over at him, the slightest bit of concern transmitted through the gaze.

The Priest, the same man who’d baptized Bellamy and Beck years ago, nodded at the family of the deceased. Caedan and Darrel knelt slowly, each picking up a handful of dirt, and tossing it on top of the coffin. Smiling compassionately, the Priest nodded respectfully.

Caedan walked away hands in his pockets. Sharing a concerned look with Gemma, he pushed aside the impulse to follow him, letting Gemma pull him close.

Caedan wondered over to his mother’s grave, dropping to his knees defeatedly.

 

**Briar Aarons Reid**

**November 30, 1972 – October 4, 1998**

**Loving and Devoted**

**Mother, Sister, Daughter, Wife**

 

Caedan ran his fingers along the top of the gravestone, pulling in a shallow breath.

* * *

“Since Bellamy died, Caedan’s just shut down. He won’t even talk to me,” Beck complained, sitting at the kitchen counter.

Gemma frowned, setting her bag down, "Well, historically the Reid men have never been great at dealing with pain or loss.”

Beck nodded solemnly, leaning his chin on his hand. Gemma busied herself with making a cup of coffee. Shrugging off his suit jacket, Beck tilted his head in thought. “What was Darrel like after his wife died?”

Gemma sighed, turning slowly, wrapping her hands around the coffee cup. “He was a mess, pretty much useless. Briar’s mother left almost as soon as the funeral ended. I took over taking care of them for a while, him and the kids, on top of taking care of you and your dad. You and Caedan shared a room when he was released from the hospital.”

Beck nodded mechanically, “How sick was Caedan?”

Gemma frowned, “He wasn’t breathing right, and his heart was beating unevenly. He was barely an hour old when they took him into surgery. He spent a month in the NICU.”

“What about Briar?”

Gemma smiled, tears glistening in her eyes. “Briar was always a picture of health. Her whole pregnancy, she was _glowing_ , you couldn’t be near her and be in a bad mood.” Her face fell, “Her death has and will probably always be a mystery.”

“How close were you two? Did you like Darrel at all? You know, before everything happened?”

Gemma shrugged, sipping her coffee. “Briar and I were closer than you and Caedan are, all through high school and even college we were nearly inseparable. I don’t know if I ever told you this, I’m Bellamy’s godmother. And I think she was consider making me Caedan’s too but…”

Beck smiled softly, pausing as he looked at the grieving reminiscent look on his mother’s face. A thought prodded at the back of his mind like an ice pick. “If you were in my place, what would you do?”

Gemma rested her forearms on the counter, leaning over. “If it was someone like Briar, I’d never leave her side because that’s what she’d want from me and vice versa. Unfortunately, Caedan is more like Darrel than any of us are willing to admit. I think it’d be better if you gave him some space for a few days, let him come to you.” Beck titled his head, biting his lip nervously. “Give it 48 hours. If you still don’t hear anything from him and it’s still bothering you, call him. Okay?” Grudgingly, Beck nodded.

* * *

Forty-eight hours later, Beck sat in the living room, flipping his phone over and over in his hand, chewing on the inside of his bottom lip.

The front door opened, Gemma walked in, hooking her coat and bag in the entrance hall. “Hey, hun, I’m home,” she announced. Walking into the living room, she frowned understandingly, “Still haven’t heard anything?” He shook his head gloomily. “Have you called him yet?”

“No, I was waiting ‘til you got home.”

Gemma smiled, sitting next to him, “Call, you’re not gonna feel any better until you do.”

He nodded, unlocking his phone. Pressing Caedan’s contact, he put it on speaker, holding it between him and Gemma.

One…

Two…

Three.

Four…

“ _You’ve reached Caedan. You can leave a message, but I probably won’t listen to it.”_

Beck rolled his eyes, cursing silently. “C’mon, man, call me. I’m seriously worried about you. Just…let me know you’re not dead.”

Throwing the phone to the other end of the couch, he put his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes in annoyance. Gemma rubbed his shoulder consolingly. “Sometimes, you just can’t help anyone who doesn’t want to be helped.”

“He’s my best friend, Mom. Think if it was Briar, you’d never let it go until you got a response.”

Gemma shook her head, “No, I wouldn’t. I’d be at her house right now. But Caedan isn’t Briar. _You_ know Caedan better than anyone, _you_ need to decide what’s the best course of action.” She squeezed his shoulder lightly. “Whatever you do end up doing, I’ll support you and I’ll be here if you need me.”

“I need to see him. I-I can’t handle _not knowing_.” She nodded encouragingly. “Whatever is going on in his head, I know it’s not good and I know I’m the only one he’d even consider letting help him.”

“Okay, so what’s the plan?”

* * *

Bellamy’s bed was still perfectly made from the last time - two months ago -  that he’d come home to visit. The floor was spotless, that alone making the room vastly different than Caedan’s own. The last book Bellamy had finished, _The Stand_ , still sat on the mahogany nightstand.

Tip-toing into the room, Caedan sat down lightly on the bed, afraid of shifting anything even the slightest bit. Running his fingertips over the comforter, he smiled sadly at the familiar feel of the old threading.

The only light in the room was dull remnants of sunlight passing through navy blue curtains covering windows on either side of the bed. Dark gray carpeting was warm beneath his bare feet.

Exhaustion weighed on Caedan’s shoulders like a truck, threading to drag him back into empty darkness.

Slowly, against his will, he swung his legs up on the bed, curling up with his hands folded under his head, his eyes fluttering shut.

* * *

Beck bounced nervously on the front steps, hands jammed into his pockets, clenched into fists. Gemma stood on the step below him, snowflakes glistening in her fading chocolate brown hair. Beck looked back at her, his face a mask of worry and anxiety. She smiled at him reassuringly, nodding toward the doorbell button. Diffidently, he pressed it a second time, feeling his heart speed up impossibly faster.

Another two minutes passed. Gemma, shivering violently, was getting impatient. She pushed past her son gently. And began agitatedly banging on the door, calling out venomously, “Darrel! Open the door!”

By the time Darrel, dressed in grimy sweats and a badly stained white tank-top under shirt, opened the door, Beck was surprised there wasn’t a dent in it from Gemma’s pounding.

Darrel lazily rolled his eyes to investigate the trespassers on his steps, grunting in irritation, and moving out of the way, swinging a near empty bottle of Vodka as a welcoming gesture.

Gemma looked positively disgusted as she slithered through the door, careful to keep a good measure between her and the man of the house. Beck followed quickly.

“Where’s Caedan?” Gemma demanded, crossing her arms stubbornly over her chest, raising a judgmental eyebrow.

Darrel shrugged unenthusiastically, stumbling to his chair, falling back like he’d been pushed.

Gemma’s amber eyes blazed. She ripped the bottle from his hand as he was tilting it to swallow the last bit. Darrel looked like he barely noticed it was gone.

Beck stood back, eyes flicking back and forth between his mother and the disheveled man slumped in the chair.

Gemma sauntered into the kitchen, pouring the last of the vodka down the drain. She returned a moment later, unlatching the miraculously always stocked liquor cabinet, grabbing as many bottles as she could carry, and returning to the kitchen. The overexaggerated clacking of her heels on the floorboards sent bullets ricocheting through Darrel’s head.

As silently as he could manage, Beck joined his seething mother in the kitchen, “Mom?” he asked tentatively, pausing just beyond the doorway.

She was shaking her head, each hand holding a bottle of alcohol as it spilled into the sink and down the drain. “Can you go get some more, Beck?” she responded, disconnectedly.

Despite staring at her back, Beck nodded fearfully, turning on his heels.

Darrel was passed out in the chair, seeming seconds from completely falling to the ground. A good bit of drool was dripping onto his shirt. Beck grimaced.

Grabbing as many bottles as possible, Beck worked fast. He’d cringe in fear whenever the telltale sound of glass against glass would ring through the house, looking back nervously at the crumpled man.

Gemma wasted no time grabbing the first pair of bottles from Beck’s hands as soon as he neared the sink, haphazardly pouring them out. Pulling out a fresh garbage bag, Beck threw away the others.

“He’s a fucking child.”

Beck’s head snapped up, the current bottle dropping from his hands and shattering itself and others at the bottom of the bag. Never once in his life had his mother cursed, especially not in front of him.

Gemma didn’t even blink at the sound of breaking glass. “I get it, his son died but… **look at him**!” She gestured wildly, shaking her head in repulsion. Her eyes scanned over Beck briefly, he shrugged feebly. “I can’t believe…” She trailed off, shaking her head again. Beck thought it best not to push.

Once all the bottles were empty, Gemma and Beck made their way back into the living room. Gemma carried a steaming cup of plain black coffee. She bent over, snapping her fingers in Darrel’s face, barely resisting the desire to pour the cup on him.

Darrel roused slowly, blinking up at her. “Drink,” she ordered, shoving the cup in his face, smiling when some splashed over the edge and hit his chest. He jumped, cursing loudly, almost knocking the cup completely out of her hand. Beck couldn’t help but chuckle.

Mockingly rolling his eyes like a child, Darrel downed the coffee in almost one gulp.

Gemma and Beck sat on the couch. Gemma clasped her hands together tightly, her knuckles turning white. “It’s time to grow up, Darrel,” she said harshly. Darrel scuffed, rolling his eyes again. “ **That**! That is exactly what I mean!” Beck flinched back at her tone. “You’re 49! It’s time to start acting like it! You can’t go through life feeling sorry for yourself and drowning your pain in liquor! You have a son! You both lost Bellamy! He’s hurting, too and I bet it’d feel great for you to actually care about him for once!” She paused, taking a deep breath to cool the fire in her veins. “For once in your miserable life, maybe you should think about someone else.”

“I…” Darrel started but was abruptly cut off.

“You are the worst kind of person. You destroy the people around you and you don’t even realize it.” Her eyes narrowed, Beck could see her bite the inside of her cheek. “Before she met you, Briar was the happiest person I knew. She was a ray of sunshine in a cloud of dark. How _she_ ever fell for _you_ is mind blowing. You ruined her, you took every good thing about her and stomped on it. You killed her!”

Darrel was immediately alert, Beck jumped, actively moving himself away from his mother. “ _ **Don’t you ever say that**_!” Darrel growled, pointing a finger at her like a dagger.

“It’s _true_. You killed her long before she actually died. A beating heart doesn’t mean you’re alive. She loved you so much, she was willing to burn every bridge to make you happy. You _stole_ her from us.”

* * *

Sitting at the top of the stairs, just out of sight, Caedan smiled, listening to Gemma shout at Darrel.

“You can try to blame whoever you want, but Briar died because she loved you too much and lost herself to hold onto you. You were the biggest mistake she ever made, the only good things that came out of your fatal effect on her were Bellamy and Caedan.

“I should’ve stepped in _years_ ago and taken them from you, maybe they could’ve been saved.”

His smile fell.

“They’re not yours to take!”

“Oh, please. Even someone as dense as you has to admit you’ve done a pretty shitty job as a father.” She laughed dryly. “Ya know, when you took care of Caedan, I actually thought that you might be redeemable. For just a second, I thought there was something good in you. I was a fool to trust you.

“Not only did you kill Briar, but you killed Bellamy and if someone doesn’t step in, you’ll probably kill Caedan, too.”

“Good.” Caedan straightened up, eyes blowing wide at the single word issued from Darrel.

* * *

Beck and Gemma were taken aback, jaws simultaneously dropping open. “W-What?” Beck stammered, speaking for the first time since the argument began.

“You heard me.” Darrel’s face was set sternly, his eyes cold and void of regret. “That little fucker took my wife from me.” Gemma’s mouth opened in preparation to speak. “Shut up. You can sit here and talk down to me all you fucking want but it won’t change a damn thing. Caedan killed Briar, he killed my wife, your best friend, and his own mother. He’s a monster. I should’ve killed him myself as soon as the doctors told me.”

The unmistakable sound of glass shattering reverberated through the house. All their heads turned to look at the ceiling, eyebrows scrunching together. The whole house was silent for a solid minute before a thud was heard.

Beck bolted from his seat, storming up the stairs at lightning speed. Forgetting their anger for a moment, Gemma and Darrel shared a glance.

Jumping up the steps, Beck turned his head quickly, Caedan’s door was fully open, light pouring from inside, Darrel’s was shut, the bathroom open.

Bellamy’s room, which was almost always shut when he wasn’t here, was cracked open, the smallest amount of dim light peeking through.

“Cae?” Beck called, pushing open Bellamy’s door.

Broken glass from the mirror was sprayed everywhere. Blood covered the gray carpet, pouring from Caedan’s cut up knuckles and the long, seemingly deep cuts from his wrists almost to his elbows

His stomach lurched, the breath ripped from his lungs. Crashing to his knees, Beck yanked open the closest draw, pulling out two shirts. Carefully, he tied the shirts around Caedan’s arms as tight as he could manage with shaking hands.

Pulling Caedan’s head into his lap, he screamed, “ _ **Mom**_!”

Caedan stared up at him through glazed over eyes, his breathing shallow. Beck pushed his hair off his face, gasping audibly. “You’re gonna be okay,” he whispered, trailing off until no sound came.

Gemma barged through the door, slamming it against the wall. Her eyes blew wide. Mechanically, she pulled her phone from her back pocket, dialing 911. Holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder, she pushed her index and middle finger against Caedan’s neck, swearing silently. “Yes, hello. I need an ambulance at 72 Maxwell Dr. Attempted suicide.” She paused, placing a hand on Beck’s shoulder lightly. “He cut his wrists.” She nodded twice. “Thank you.”

Dropping the phone carelessly on the floor, she put her hands on either side of Beck’s face, “Breathe, baby, you gotta breathe.” And he did, sucking in a deep breath, only just realize that he hadn’t taken a real breath since entering the room. “Okay, good, you did good, baby,” she assured him, nodding.

 


	8. Seven

Seven

  
  


Doctors and nurses, including Sanders, surrounded Caedan. Some nurses worked on providing a transfusion of Type O blood, the others aiding the doctors in cleaning the wounds, trying to slow the bleeding enough to see the extent of the damage.

Doctor Sanders had immediately recognized the group as soon as they came through the door. He had dropped whatever he had been doing, trailing after the ER nurses.

Blood stained white sheets, masking Caedan’s pale skin, persistently dripping onto the floor and a nurse’s formerly spotless white sneakers. Beck’s hand flew up to cover his mouth, suppressing a gag.

Punching the wall, Darrel exhaled heavily, attempting to slow his racing heart. Sanders walked out of the curtained room, long faced. “How bad is it?” Darrel demanded.

“Well, the bleeding has slowed since he came, however we are struggling to replace the blood he’s already lost while trying to stop the bleeding completely. We fear he may have cut his radial artery in his left arm. And with his existing heart condition, there can be complications.” He paused, looking back briefly, sighing and shaking his head, “Honestly, I can’t believe he’s alive at all…  We’re working as hard and as fast as we can.” Darrel rolled his eyes at the stereotypical “doctor catch phrase.” Sanders sighed, hands on his hips, “I encourage you to wait in the waiting room, we need as much space as possible and you being here isn’t going to help anyone in the long run. I’m sorry. I promise that either a nurse or myself with come out to update you as soon as we catch a break.”

Beck tugged on Gemma’s sleeve like a child, his hand still covering his mouth. She looked at him worriedly. “Mom, I think ‘m gonna throw up…” he whispered.

Gemma nodded quickly. “C’mon.” She directed him away from the others. Beck tore his eyes from Caedan, a tear slipping down his cheek.

* * *

“No! I’m not fucking leaving! That’s my son in there! Tell me what the fuck is going on!”

Beep…

“Sir, you have to calm down…”

Beep…

“Don’t tell me to calm down!”

Blaring white lights, a million hands brushing over him, pushing and tugging at his arms. Doctors shouting and mumbling to each other, muttering words he could barely hear.

Beep…

“Doctor Sanders! He’s crashing!” a nurse screamed.

Cold rushed in, filling the blinding white room. Soon, a shadow covered his vision. The doctors vanished, all sounds faded. A floating feeling took over, lifting him from his limp body on the stiff stretcher.

She was there, standing between two nurses. Her eyes were such a light icy shade of blue, they were almost transparent. Her lips, dark crimson red, were shut lightly.

Suddenly, he remembered the very first time he saw her, a decade ago, in his grandfather’s hospital room only seconds before he died. She had been smiling then, trying to seem comforting but only succeeding in chilling him to his very core. She had been smiling when Bellamy died, too.

The look on her face now was…strange. Almost curious. She eyed him, the physical version, lying on the stretcher, her eyebrows furrowed, head tilted to the side. The corners of her mouth tilted downward.

* * *

The father pounded at the door, shouting vulgar words at his wife’s doctors, demanding to know what was going on. He was ignored.

Sitting halfway up in the bed, panting from a long and strenuous labor, was a young, beautiful woman. Chestnut brown hair was matted to her head with sweat, cinnamon colored eyes glazed and tired, ringed by dark circles of exhaustion, but wide with alarm.

“What’s wrong?” she requested, finally catching the attention of her doctor and nurse. The nurse, obviously sympathetic, walked over, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “What’s happening?” She craned her head to look around the doctor as a second managed to push past her husband, shutting the door abruptly in his face a split second later.

“We think he may have a heart defect,” the nurse answered quietly, earning a stern, angered look from the second doctor.

Her eyes widened impossibly more, she sat up, ignoring the pain that coursed through her body. “ _What_?”

“The doctors are doing everything they can to help him, he’s going to be okay.”

Darkness flooded the room, a strange, yet familiar figure emerging from thin air.

Her chest tightened as the figure materialized, forming the shape of a girl, younger than the new mother was. The girl stared resolutely at the newborn, icy eyes locked on the barely open ones of the child, crimson lips set in a distraught line.

Realization struck her, she gasped audibly. The nurse was immediately alert, anxiously scanning the mother for any signs of trouble.

Tears filled her eyes, and spilled down her cheeks, she started shaking her head violently. “No! No! Please, don’t!” she cried, desperately trying to get out of the bed, held back by the nurse’s surprisingly strong grip. “You can’t take him!”

The doctors paused, turning to look at her, sharing a concerned look with the nurse at her side.

“ _ **Please**_!” The angel froze, turning her head slow, facing the mother, feigning disinterest. Her eyes scanned the angel’s, lost in thought. “Take me…” she whispered, breathing heavily. “ _Take me_.”

The angel thought for a moment, looking back at the child, earning a loud sob from the mother. Finally, she decided, turning back to the mother.

She walked over, placing a hand on the mother’s shoulder, pushing her back against the pillows. The nurse watched in complete confusion.

* * *

Her eyes focus back in, zoning in on his apparition. She shook her head, “ _Eccillum non vostrum aevum_.” He inclined his head to the side, mouth opening in question. He stopped when she shut her eyes, straightening up.

A claw hooked onto his ribcage, yanking him back to his body.

“He’s back!” a nurse called out excitedly.

The corners of the angel’s mouth twitched upward. She watched his eyelids flutter open slowly with a hint of relief etched on her face.

The relief was short lived; her small smile vanished. A hand wrapped around her, dragging her from the room at the speed of lightning.

* * *

Beck and Gemma met Darrel in the waiting room. His head was down, fiddling his thumbs impatiently. Seeing their shoes walk up, he lifted his head, smirking teasingly at Beck. “Feel better, mama’s boy?” Gemma crossed her arms over her chest warningly. Darrel held his hands up in mock defense, “Easy Mama Bear, I’m just messing with him. If you couldn’t tell, I’m a bit stressed right now.”

“Two hours ago, you said you should’ve killed Caedan _yourself_! Just because he might actually be dying now does not give you any right to suddenly step up and act like a father!” Gemma screamed.

“You neglected and abused him for 19 years! You can’t just change your mind!” Beck added, clenching his fists.

“He is my son! I’ve made some mistakes but…!”

Beck grabbed Darrel’s collar, yanking him to his feet. Through gritted teeth, he growled, “When he gets out of here, he is coming with us. And you will never see him again. Got it?”

Beck cried out as Darrel punched his stomach, crumpling in on himself, digging his nails into Darrel’s jacket to keep from crashing to his knees.

Getting his breath back, Beck straightened up, letting go of Darrel’s jacket. Gemma stepped forward when she saw the fire in Beck’s eyes but was too late.

With three punches, mimicking the motions he’d seen Caedan use countless times, Beck brought Darrel to his knees. Darrel’s hands covered his face, head bowing to provide protection.

Beck hesitated for only a single second, but it was enough time for Darrel to respond with a hard uppercut. Dragging Beck to the ground, Darrel straddled his hips, pinning him in place with his knee pressed against his ribcage.

The other bystanders jumped back, someone ran off to get security. Gemma pulled with all her might on Darrel’s jacket, her boots slipping on the linoleum tiles.

Two security guards ran in. The bigger of the pair knocked into Darrel shoving him to the ground, grabbing his wrists to pin him down. The other and Gemma helped Beck up, the security guard waving over a nurse at the sight of Beck’s split eyebrow and lip. Gemma and Beck were ushered off to be tended to. Darrel was dragged out of the waiting room, his arm twisted behind his back to keep him in place.

* * *

Everything was pitch black besides the throne and platform in front of her. She knelt on one knee, unable to stop from shaking.

Ice blue eyes seemed to glow in the darkness as they looked up at the humanoid seated on the throne, his hands clutching the skulls placed at the end of the armrests.

When he opened his mouth to speak, a growl emitted from deep inside, rattling the room. “ _Conduplico ista habeo davitus occasio cogo anima de Caedan Reid. Conduplico ista fefellare.”_

She drew in a shuddered breath, bowing her head, “ _Generator, paenitere deficio iste.”_

He growled again, sighing breathlessly. “ _Et inclinaverunt cor tuum, quia poena erat devitatio primum arbitrium et puero. Quod valde dolendum est, non potest esse extra id tempus._ ” Her head fell, fear filling her quickly. “ _Et quid est hoc, Nyx.”_

She nodded slowly, closing her eyes tightly in anticipation.

* * *

Beck walked downstairs slowly, his hands stuffed in his pockets, clenched into tight fists. Gemma smiled softly at him as he walked into the kitchen before returning to making dinner. “How’s Caedan doing?” she asked. “Think maybe he’ll be joining us for dinner tonight?”

Beck scratched his head, falling into one of the kitchen table chairs. “Probably not.”

Gemma’s face fell, “He okay?”

“No,” Beck answered simply. “I think we should… I don’t know… talk to someone. He’s barely left his bed since he got out of the hospital. He hardly eats, and he’s practically mute.”

“Caedan’s been through a lot recently, it’s gonna be tough for a while.” Turning the stove off, Gemma turned back to face him, resting her arms on the counter. “We can’t force him to open up, we can’t make him talk or anything.” Beck looked down. “And…as much as I love Caedan and I love how much you’ve been helping him lately, right now, you really do have to focus on yourself. The police keep calling. They can’t hold Darrel unless we press charges.” Beck ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it harshly. “You have to give me an answer or Darrel will get out tomorrow and you know he’ll come straight here.”

“He’ll try to take Caedan…”

“No,” Gemma argued. “I’ve known Darrel for years. Caedan is the last thing on his mind right now, always has been. He’ll come here to finish what he started.”

“You think he’d…”

“I think he’d kill you the second he got the chance. And after he was finished with you and with me, he’d go after Caedan and do what he’s wanted to do for the last 19 years.”

Beck nodded, “Let’s press charges.”

* * *

Caedan lay tangled in his sheets, covered in a sheen of sweat, whining and whimpering. Despite how tightly shut his eyes were in his restless sleep, tears slipped through, dampening the pillow beneath his head.

Clawing out of his nightmare, Caedan bolted up in bed, eyes wide and frantic, scanning the dark room, panting.

He scrambled out of bed, grabbing the closest thing to him, which happened to be his box of pencils.

Standing at the foot of the bed, brilliant ice blue eyes the only truly visible feature, was the angel. She as different. Her eyes weren’t completely void of emotion like he was familiar with. They were filled with a dizzying mix of concern and fear and joy and curiosity.

“Hello, Caedan,” she spoke; her voice was strained like someone who’d been crying. She had a thick accent. Somehow resembling British, French, and Italian all together. When he didn’t respond, she moved her eyes over to the light; it burst to life, illuminating the room.

As her eyes moved over to the door, shutting it effortlessly, Caedan looked passed her. He tilted his head sideways curiously. In the mirror behind her, he saw two strange shaped wounds between her shoulder blades covered in dried blood. Staring with wide eyes, Caedan realized they were where her wings would’ve been.

Raspy voiced, he spoke for the first time in weeks, “What happened to you?”

She was somehow paler than he remembered, her skin tinted gray. Where before she had stood tall and proud, now her shoulders were slumped defeatedly, her hands clasped together.

“I have been punished.” Before he could voice his confusion, she continued, “Punishment for relinquishing a soul back to it’s body without permission from the King, is stripping of an angel’s wings.”

One of the wounds, which he now realized were really stumps, fluttered, blood slowly dripping down her back. Caedan felt lightheaded. “Relinquishing a soul… Is that what you did to me?” She nodded slowly. “Why?” he snapped, dropping the box. “I don’t want to be here! Can’t you see that?” He shook his head, glaring at her, “Who the hell are you?”

She straightened up in an instinctive manner, though she showed no pride. “I am Nyx, a…” she paused, clearing her throat. “A former Angel of Death, servant and daughter to the king of the Underworld.”

He stepped back defensively, “King… Like…the devil?”

She shook her head, “No, he is not the one referred to as “the Devil” or “Satan” by humans. He is the caretaker of parted souls.”

Caedan felt himself falling back to sit on the edge of his bed. “Why did you make me live?”

She frowned and moved closer, stopping when he flinched back. “You have nothing to fear anymore. I have lost my wings and so, have lost my powers and connection to the Underworld.” Still, fear and apprehension filled his eyes. “When you were born, you were very sick and dying. I was assigned to claim your soul. Your mother, like you, could see me. The ability to see Angels of Death is rewarded to those who have had close encounters with one previously.” Caedan thought back to when his grandfather had told him about a near drowning incident Briar had experienced when she was a child. “She begged me to let you live and I pitied her and you. You were minutes old, it seemed so wrong for you to lose your chance at living your own life. But, if I returned empty handed, I would have been punished sooner. Your mother offered her soul in exchange for yours. It was not an even trade; an innocent newborn is worth hundreds more than an adult, but I could not bring myself to steal your soul. So, I accepted her offer.

“I was not punished then because the King sympathized with my decision. When I took her soul, theoretically, you were given all of her years of life; all she had lived and should have lived.” Caedan’s head fell. “She did not die just for you to commit suicide.”

“But I don’t want to be here,” his voice cracked. “I’m tired… I’m so tired. I just-I want it to stop. It’s _too much_.”

“I am sorry for the difficulty you have faced in your life. But you are living on borrowed time. I could not let you waste the life your mother gave up for you.” She moved closer, seeming to glide across the floor. He didn’t flinch. “I am no longer an angel. I am dying.” Caedan’s head snapped back up. “I no longer have any influence in the balance of life or death. But please,” she knelt in front of him, “for me, for your mother, for Bellamy _live_.”

He watched her eyes, watching them seemingly change color. They were sympathetic and pleading. Before he could say anything, blood began falling from them like tears. His own blew wide, “Oh, my God. Your eyes…”

She reached a hand up a second before the bedroom door opened. “Cae?” Beck’s voice called, and the angel vanished.

 


End file.
